


Mark of Grace

by Vaerin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Angst, Dominant Castiel, Dominant Sam, Drama, M/M, Mating Bonds, Non-Consensual, Shower Sex, Slight Bondage, Submissive Gabriel, Supernatural - Freeform, Wing Kink, Wing comfort, sumbissive Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 180,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaerin/pseuds/Vaerin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with a coin. A coin used to enter Dean's dreams. That intrusion begins the unfolding of a truth the boys aren't ready to believe. As they fight through personal matters, The Cursed One rises to exact revenge. She targets Dean for reasons unknown. As if Dean hasn't suffered enough, he's forced to give what he never planned to sacrifice. Can they win, or will they fall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dream a Little Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam take Cas on a routine hunt, trying to help him get over the loss of his Grace. While there, Dean locates the coin worn by the victims of a specter. the only problem is... there is not specter and the murders never happened. It was all a ruse to lure the hunters out. The coin affects Dean in his sleep, the hunter waking with a mark burned into his skin and the overwhelming need for his best friend.

Dean Winchester is ranked as one of the best hunters in the world, his brother right up there with him. Unfortunately, even _he_ has difficulties with the supernatural. Let's say... the time he sold his soul to save Sam's life, or the time the angels chased him about to be the vessel of Michael for the apocalypse. Perhaps when his angelic friend had a psychotic moment and claimed he was the new god. Maybe when he ended up in Purgatory after stopping a Leviathan... there are just so many moments to choose from. Right now, he's focused on the current problem he's facing... Metatron has cast all the angels from Heaven in a bout of vengeance. Castiel, the angel that pulled him from Hell, is now human and isn't taking it well at all. Once again, he was used by his brethren and his naivety led him down yet another dangerous road. Just one mistake after the next, he simply can't take it anymore. It took a couple weeks, but the Winchester brothers managed to cheer him up enough to take him hunting. While he's human, they might as well teach him the basics.

It's just a routine ghost, maybe even a specter, that's all it was _supposed_ to be anyway. The two thought it would be alright to drag the depressed angel along; they could handle the majority of the work and still keep an eye on him. Charlie was the one that sent them the job, the redhead having been scanning the net in her free time for them. They have to admit she's far more resourceful than Garth, that wiry boy is near nonexistent at most times. He's definitely no Bobby, though he's trying hard to fill those shoes.

The job is within a twenty mile radius of their secret lair, the home base for the men of letters, which should've been a huge clue for them. They ignored it. A job is a job and they were going stir crazy with Kevin and Castiel. People were being randomly attacked, their assaults varied, and the two were reminded of a specter they dealt with a while back. Right now, they roam the center of the town where all five of the afflictions occurred.

"Anything?" Dean wonders.

"Nope, not a thing," Sam sighs. "Are we certain it's a specter?"

"Not in the least, but it fits so far... right?"

"... Where's Cas?"

Dean stops and searches the area quickly, scanning over bushes and benches scattered through the park. He lets out a quiet sigh when he sees Castiel sitting on a bench by the pond. It's peaceful here, so quiet and still. It's probably a great place for the former angel to reflect upon things. The sun has been bright all day, glaring harshly down upon them, however the trio hasn't been very affected by it. The scent of dew from the rain last night plays upon the air, Dean breathing it in with relief at the sight of his friend. He points the angel out to Sam and the two continue with their investigation.

The last body was found in the bushes, in a secluded part of the park. It's guarded by trees and shadows, hiding the victim for a good three days before a jogger stumbled upon the body. She was a woman and was shot in the face, up close, by her boyfriend of two months. He doesn't remember the attack, lost his necklace that night, and sat in wait of the cops after he called them. The first thing that tipped the hunters off about the abnormalities of all this.

"You checked out the necklace, right?" Dean wonders conversationally.

"Yeah, I did. Apparently, it was worn for a week by the last four victims' lovers," Sam sighs. "Three men, two women. A shooting, a strangulation, a drowning, a bludgeoning, and a hit and run. All were killed in the park... during a date. What the hell is going on here?"

"I could ask the same. No ectoplasm at any scene, or on any of the bodies."

Sam takes a seat on a nearby bench to stretch out his 6' 4 1/2" figure, facing where Cas is, and Dean joins him. They've been all over each scene, interviewed every killer, and searched high and low for that damn necklace... they've found nothing. Dean leans back and looks toward the heavens, humming to himself as his fingertips tap the beat to a random song on the back of the bench. The sky is filled with fluffy white clouds today, though they do little to shield the world below from the sun. it's the perfect day, really, one he would normally like to spend working on the impala... or the cars in Bobby's salvage yard. Sam rests his forearms on his knees, those pools of deep blue watching the former angel in concern. The day is lost on him, the taller of the two long since distracted by their friend's suffering.

"You know... maybe Charlie was wrong," Dean remarks. "What do we know about the victims so far? Their significant others were frequently seen with a mysterious sexy woman, they all had that weird necklace, they don't remember killing their lover... but they did it to be with the mystery woman. Maybe we're dealing with a siren."

"I hate sirens," Sam mutters.

Dean shrugs... it's the best they have at the moment. After their short break, the two head back to Castiel. The former angel glances their way the minute he hears their footsteps upon the wet grass, standing curiously at the irritated expressions on their faces. He doesn't say anything, he hasn't said much since Metatron betrayed him, however his questions are written within his eyes.

"We'll tell you later," Dean murmurs. "Let's just get back to the ho..."

He stops suddenly, glancing over near the trash bin. Sam and Castiel are given a confused glance, and then Dean is inching his way over as he looks about warily. The sunlight had glinted off of something shiny in the pebbles, so close to the grass it would be easy to overlook. When it reflects the light once more, he knows for certain something is there. Sam is tense, ready to leap in at any moment should he need to... but he doesn't. Dean picks up a charm on a long silver necklace, holding it before him as he straightens his 6' 1 1/4" frame once more. It's an ancient coin. The coloring looks as though it could be made of copper, the edges rough and the symbols so smooth they're almost difficult to make out. On one side is a dove, on the other is a winged demon.

"Yahtzee! Check this out," Dean comments. " _Tell_ me this doesn't look like it can be a cursed object."

"I thought we ruled out specters," Sam frowns.

"... Well... yeah... but if we're dealing with more than one thing, this is _definitely_ on my 'to burn' list. Come on, we can keep it in a box or something until we figure it out."

He tucks it in his pocket and the trio heads back to the impala in silence. From the rear-view mirror, Dean can see the bags under Castiel's eyes and the forlorn look that seems to cling to him. Like a lost puppy kicked by everyone that passes, the former angel looks broken. Dean hates that look on him. The older hunter has to admit, however, that he prefers it to the drunk and drugged out version he saw during his trip to the future... damn angels tried everything to get him to break.

They pull into the parking lot of the cheap motel, the three sharing a room with two beds and a pullout. It's a rather nice place, well taken care of by the owners. The bushes are nicely trimmed daily, the handyman on call for anything that may need fixing, and it would seem the paint is freshened on a perfect schedule. Dean had pointed this out before, having stayed once in the past, yet Castiel had nothing to reply. He still hasn't said anything all day and it's driving Dean mad. He hates silence, something Sam knows all too well, and he'll be damned if he doesn't find a way to get Castiel talking again.

When they enter the room, Castiel sits on the pullout bed and watches the other two wander. It can't be very comfortable, however he insisted he would be fine on it. Sam calls shower first, so Dean settles himself on the bed he claimed when they arrived. He lets his eyes pass through the room, taking in the décor in sea green and sand colors. The beach theme is pulled off well within the walls of their room. Pictures of shells and fish are on the walls, the lamps decorated with ship wheels and rope, and even the clock is surrounded by drift wood.

He pulls the necklace from his pocket and holds it up to study. Something about the coin looks so familiar; its been bugging him since he picked it up in the still of the park. With a frown, he gets up and moves to the pile of papers and files on the table beside Sam's laptop. He rummages about and pulls out a couple pictures, a few discarded leaves of paper floating to the floor in his distraction. Castiel turns his attention to the floor, though he's curious as to what Dean is thinking. Finally, the hunter slams his hand down in revelation and Castiel jumps a bit from surprise.

"This is the necklace!" Dean states. "This is the necklace they all had and lost after killing their lovers! I can't _believe_ it was just lying in the park!"

"Perhaps they really did just lose it, Dean," Castiel remarks quietly. "It happens."

"Have you ever seen a copy of this necklace in the novelty shops here?" the older Winchester scoffs. "I haven't. We checked their background, none of them knew each other. They haven't been out of town in _years_... there's no _way_ this is a coincidence."

He heads back to the bed, sitting down to play with the necklace until Sam gets finished. The springs squeak as his weight lands on the mattress, loud within the quiet room, and continues to sound as he pulls himself onto the middle of the bed. He triumphs in the fact his friend spoke to him, a slight smirk tugging on his lips. With a sigh he lies back to rest his head on the pillows. No sooner does he feel the fluffy pillow caress the back of his head is he lost to sleep.

Sam exits the bathroom in his sleeping pants a few moments later, catching his brother practically dead upon the mattress. He walks over and notes that the necklace is entwined in Dean's fingers, his hand hanging over the side of the bed. It's so unlike his brother to pass out so early, especially without locking up a possibly cursed object. Castiel is gazing out the window, watching the stars twinkle overhead with a heavy heart. Kevin still hasn't answered his biggest question... why him? There were so many angels up there, Naomi was _right there_... but Metatron chose _him_ for the last ingredient. Sam can see the train of thought and quickly reroutes it.

"How fast did Dean fall asleep?" he wonders. "I haven't been that long and he was _wired_ when I started my shower."

"It was almost immediate. I figured it would happen eventually, he hasn't been sleeping well this past week. I thought I would just let him rest, he needs it."

"Was he holding that necklace when he passed out?"

"... Didn't he set it on the table?"

Sam darts for Dean, grabbing the necklace away from him. The coin upon the chain is warm and seems to pulse with a heartbeat in his palm, drawing a gasp from the taller hunter as he nearly throws it to the floor. The older Winchester doesn't stir a bit, his expression so placid it's as though he's in a coma. Sam's heart skips a beat, his eyes wide with fear as they turn to Castiel. It's so quiet, time seeming to slow as he searches for those blue eyes. He can hear the clock's ticking loud within his ears, the whir of the fan decelerating as it attempts to drown out the clock, and his heart slams against his ribs. The former angel once again has 'the look' on his face, the one that tells anyone that knows him he's blaming himself for this. It's not the expression Sam was hoping for, his mind already struggling to come up with an explanation that will make everything okay again.

"Cas..."

"I should've been paying better attention..."

"No, this isn't your fault," Sam states firmly. "Nothing you could do would've changed this, okay? That necklace isn't cursed, a siren doesn't work with cursed items. They infect a target through saliva, not objects."

Castiel nods, though his eyes say he's still guilty. When it comes to Dean getting hurt, Sam has noticed the brunette takes those hits the hardest. He's always been more attached to the older hunter, though both brothers are his good friends. He welcomes being family with the Winchester boys, it's a refreshing difference from his backstabbing brethren, but he'll always stray closer to Dean than Sam. If it weren't for Naomi's blood lust where Dean was concerned, he probably would've stayed under her control. As it were, he would challenge Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, and any other challenger to stay with the dark haired male.

"Will he be okay?" Castiel asks.

"I don't see anything wrong," Sam frowns as he checks his brother over. "He doesn't have a lover, so he shouldn't be a target. He hasn't been around any local women either. In fact, he hasn't been around a random woman since that Amazon incident... sort of turned him off of the whole sleeping around thing."

"But... he'll be okay?"

"It's probably just like you said," the younger hunter sighs. "He hasn't been sleeping like he should, he's swapped beer for coffee and pop, he probably just fizzled out. We'll give him twenty-four hours to wake and then think of something to do. In the meantime, I need some sleep. I'll go see if I can dig up anything else about this mystery woman in the morning. You can stay here and watch over him while I'm gone, okay?"

Castiel nods and Sam retreats to his bed. The room is filled with the sound of the squeaky springs, the heat within the room softened only by the steady thrum of the overhead fan. The former angel waits until Sam is settled before he backs up to his pullout bed, getting comfortable on the lumpy mattress and lying so he can watch Dean until he falls asleep himself.

Dean groans and stretches, yawning as he listens to the satisfying pop of his spine. He's never felt so good, like he's slept for weeks after so many nights spent awake. He sits up and looks around, finding himself right where he fell asleep. He hadn't meant to do so, but staying awake for a week on nothing but caffeine finally took him out. Castiel warned him... that's what he gets for not listening. Not that he'd ever admit that to the blue eyed man.

The room seems different somehow to him, so silent and slightly dark. He realizes that the blinds have been pulled to keep out the sun. on the table lie the remnants of Sam's dinner and the scattered papers of before, the laptop shut and set aside. The bed beside his is made, the pullout folded back up into the brown couch and their bags are neatly placed atop it with the throw pillows.

"Sammy?" he calls out.

"Sam's not here."

Dean jumps a bit at the unexpected voice, turning to see Castiel exiting the bathroom. He looks fresh from the shower, just buttoning up his dress shirt. A flash of skin, still a bit moist from the shower, peeks from the unbuttoned area. Dean looks away, uncertain why and knowing it really doesn't matter. The other male finishes buttoning his shirt and sits down on the edge of Sam's bed. Nervousness creeps through Dean's system, though he doesn't understand why. He's always just found it to be awkward when two guys are sitting on a bed in a motel. Okay, not him and Sam... just him and Castiel. It's completely understandable in his opinion. He quickly stands and starts pacing around the room.

"Where'd that necklace go?" he wonders.

"Sam burned it, just to be certain it wasn't a cause of all this," the brunette informs. "You've been asleep for a long while and he was worried you wouldn't wake. It was just a precaution. He's out looking for the mystery woman that may have sent the necklace into circulation."

"... Ah. Good idea," he murmurs. "I'll just get ready and go meet up with him."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Castiel says. "Sam was adamant you stay here and try to relax, you've been putting off sleep for too long. It's not healthy."

Dean is about to argue, but a wave of weariness touches him and he relents. He strides over to the window and looks outside. It's afternoon, the sun high and the birds singing happily, but he feels as though it's still night. His inner clock has been out of whack for a while now, he needs to get it fixed. He can hear Castiel moving about the room, striding over to him, and he gets a shiver along his spine. It's not one born of fear or trepidation... but pleasure and expectation. He's not sure where it came from or why he's having it, it's not normal to feel that way around his friend. He turns, his nose inches from Castiel's. He gasps and quickly backs away, his back hitting the wall near the window in his haste.

"Cas, we discussed this," he frowns. "Personal space, man!"

"Mm-hm," he hums as he steps closer again. "It's a discussion I go over frequently... it makes no sense to me."

"... Why are you... Mm!"

Dean is cut off when Castiel's lips connect with his, his mind blowing with a barely audible 'boom' in the background. Green eyes watch the former angel in complete shock. Slowly, the hunter relaxes and his lips work against Castiel's. He doesn't know why, he just knows the other has been a magnet to his hormones since he rebelled. Deep within his mind Dean is swimming in confusion, drowning in fear and apprehension. He vaguely hears himself screaming that something isn't right, yet the kiss is heating up and Castiel's hands are on his hips. Dean weaves his fingers in brown locks, tugging slightly rough as their teeth click together. He can smell his shampoo on Castiel, taste the mint from their mouthwash still lingering within his mouth, and moans quietly at the sensations. There's just something about the other wearing his own scent that drives him into a primal sort of need. He's surprised when the former angel grips his thighs and lifts him up, though he keeps enough mind to wrap his legs around Castiel's waist.

The next thing he knows, the 5' 11" male drops him onto the mattress and he's over him. Those blue eyes gazing straight into Dean's soul, the warmth from his body soaking into his own and drawing forth that want... that need... until there's no chance of ignoring it. Castiel sucks on his neck, nipping and kissing down the column as Dean pants. He's aroused, something he never thought would happen with his savior and friend. It's hot and painful, yet so much stronger than his trysts with those he's picked up before. He's losing all control at the touch from the man above him... and he's happy to hand it over for once. Castiel grinds his hips into Dean's arousal, both of them groaning in pleasure.

"Cas," Dean says in a husky tone. "We should stop."

"Why? Aren't you enjoying yourself? Don't you want this?"

"Ah... of course I do," Dean breaths out. "I just... I don't want to... hah... ruin everything."

"I don't see the problem," the former angel remarks. "I love you, you love me... this is perfect."

Dean's eyes are wide once more, staring into eyes eaten by black pupil in their desire. Castiel stills, realizing now isn't the time to press the hunter into sex. He watches realization overcome the shock. Dean's subconscious is fighting like hell with his pleasure addled brain. His body wants more, he wants to pull Castiel to him and let him take him any which way he wants... but deep down his mind disagrees. It's like he's lost in a dream and is watching everything from the sidelines.

"You... you love me?" he murmurs in disbelief.

"Dean, I rebelled against Heaven for you," Castiel comments. "Twice. I came to you during a war and put you first, I would do anything for you. Of course I love you."

The heat inside him is growing rapidly with the confession said so matter-of-factly. His skin already holding a sheen of cool sweat, which is definitely not the norm for him. It's getting unbearable, the desire flowing through him so recklessly and heedlessly, and by now the only voice sounding in his mind is the one wracked with need. He pulls Castiel down to him and kisses him again, all his emotions pouring into it... whether known, denied, or undiscovered. The brunette responds eagerly, hands sliding up beneath Dean's shirt to touch overheated skin. Dean pulls away with a hiss, those fingers tracing over his abs and pecs with loving caresses. It's such a gentle touch, so soft and careful, as though he were made of the most fragile of gems. It serves to do nothing more than rile Dean's instincts, which demand he bend over and submit to the man above him. The idea is beginning to sound better and better with each stroke along his body. Never before has his arousal taken over so much of his common sense, overthrown so much of his control. The smell of musk, sweat and sex has thoroughly addled his brain.

"Oh god," Dean moans as his hips buck unconsciously. "Ah... I wish this could last forever."

"Mm... me, too."

Castiel goes back to Dean's throat, the other facing the side to give him more room. An eager submissive relenting to their dominant's will. Somewhere between the gentle fingers and his neck, the former angel slipped off his hunter's shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. One finger is drawing lazy designs on his shoulder where his hand print once laid. Dean tries to concentrate on that, unable to see, yet can't figure out what they are. He decides they're just random and mean nothing, sighing in content as his friend takes complete control. Just as he's finally letting go, Castiel grips his shoulder tightly and a horrid pain burns through him. Dean screams, eyes popping open to stare at the man atop him. He doesn't register any remorse for what he's doing, just a self satisfaction that blares loudly 'I'm not the Castiel you know'.

Dean wakes, his scream carrying from his dream and startling the two in the room. It seems to echo within the enclosed area, so sudden and filled with pain and betrayal he isn't completely convinced it came from his own throat. Sam shifts in surprise, falling to the floor with a thump, and Castiel hits his head on the wall he's inched too close to. The minute Dean sees the shocked faces around him and the moonlight filtering through the window, he cuts off his scream. His heart is racing, a phantom pain throbs in his shoulder, and he can still smell the scent of his flesh burning. He pants as he attempts to calm down, telling himself continuously that it was only a dream.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks in a sleep-fogged worry.

"I'm fine," Dean breathes out shakily. "Just a... nightmare, I guess. What happened?"

"You fell asleep with that weird necklace," the younger Winchester comments. "I put it away in a curse box, just in case I needed to burn it. It's likely you just wore yourself out, though. Cas stayed with you all day while I looked for the mystery woman, never found her. I honestly don't think we're dealing with a siren, Dean. If we are, she must've moved on."

"Wait... all _day_? How long was I out?"

"... Long enough for us to consider African Dream Root."

Dean groans and falls back onto his pillow, he can feel Castiel's eyes boring into him. His dream flashes before his eyes at the feeling, a shiver racing along his spine. There's a lingering want from the dream, the scent of musk and taste of mint haunting him, and he can't say he dislikes the idea of that dream being reality... not the first part anyway. His hormones beg him to lay down for the man beside him, his begging and moaning from within his dream drawing a blush to his face as they repeat in his mind. Man is he glad they didn't resort to that, it would've been mortifying if they caught him in bed with their former angel. He draws his hand down his face with a sigh, sliding from bed and heading to the bathroom. His entire body hurts with tensed muscles, a hot shower will help to relax them.

Castiel watches cautiously, uncertain what to say or do to help his friend. When the bathroom door closes, he exchanges a worried glance with Sam. Neither makes a move to hound Dean, neither says anything more about the strange situation... but both are thinking about what they'll ask later.

The older Winchester sighs beneath the steaming spray, groaning happily as his muscles loosen in the heat. He rubs his sore shoulder, cringing at the sting upon the sensitive skin. It's far too sensitive for his liking. Halfway through his shower, that dream strikes him again and his libido responds favorably. With a groan, he reaches to turn the water to cold. His hand hesitates only a moment before making the switch, the hunter horrified at the realization he was actually considering jerking off to a fantasy staring Castiel.

Once he's cleaned up and the tension has dissipated, along with his arousal, Dean steps out of the shower and grabs a towel. He dries off, glancing in the mirror at his shoulder. It's a harsh red, strange lines shimmering in the light as though he's actually been burned. He moves closer to the mirror, shifting his shoulder to catch the light on different areas. The mark that shows upon his skin in the light... is the sigil Castiel drew in his dream. Well... he can't be a hundred percent on that, he didn't actually _see_ it, but the random designs remind him of it. The lines are as thin as fishing wire, almost as though he was branded with it, and the color looks like molten gold was poured into his skin.

"What the hell?" he murmurs.

He frowns and looks it over again, finally backing away and grabbing his shirt. He pulls it on, checking the mirror to make sure the mark is covered. He doesn't know what it means or what it's from, but he _does_ know he isn't going to worry the others with it. Once he's positive the gold will be overlooked, he pulls on some clean sleeping pants and heads back out to the room. It's still late, around midnight, and Sam has already fallen back into slumber. Castiel is sitting on his bed now, waiting for Dean to finish up. At the sight of him, the hunter fears he'll have to take another cold shower. He curses mentally and pushes that emotion down will all the others he's determined to ignore.

"What did you dream about?" he wonders in that ever husky tone.

"N-nothing big," Dean stammers with a shudder.

"Do you think the necklace had something to do with it?"

"Cas... I'm just really tired right now," he states wearily. "How about we talk about this in the morning? We both really need some sleep."

"... Of course," the brunette replies. "Good night, Dean."

He lies back and stares at the ceiling, listening to Dean slide back into bed. Once he's positive the other is out and sleeping comfortably, he closes his own eyes and drifts off. Within the room a soft chuckle drifts about lazily, the curse box popping open to radiate a soft glow from the coin. Castiel cringes in his sleep, rolling away from the glow, and the boys bury themselves beneath their pillows. Slowly, the necklace fades and disappears. There's a breathy sigh, a hint of fondness held within the noise, and then everything goes completely still.

Dean wakes the next morning to two accusing glares, a hint of worry swimming beneath. It's nothing new, it's actually expected after his long sleep, yet that doesn't mean it's not irritating. The tension held between them all is palpable, suffocating the green-eyed hunter in ways silence has never gotten the chance. It brings a slight feeling of apprehension and guilt, the knowledge of a lie on the tip of his tongue, and a weight in his belly that brings on nausea. He raises a brow and carefully disentangles himself from his blankets, playing it cool when he feels anything but. Sam waits until he's upright to send the expectant look to his brother. Dean, however, is looking past them at the stand. The curse box is open and the necklace is gone.

"Uh... Sammy, did you burn the necklace?" he wonders.

"No, why?"

"... It's gone."

Sam and Castiel both turn their heads so fast they'll likely have an ache, their eyes wide at the sight of the missing jewelry. Dean is happy his dream is kicked to the side for now, he had no clue what he was going to say about it without blushing like a virgin, but the loss of the coin only serves to worry him more. If it was cursed, that dream was likely a product of the creature it's tied to. All the more reason to keep his mouth shut on the sigil... he doesn't need Sam treating him with kid gloves.

"Did anyone see what happened to it?"

"No, I didn't even think to check on it," Sam admits. "It was in a curse box, no one knew we had it... or at least... I didn't _think_ anyone did."

"It was still in the box when Dean went back to bed," Castiel offers. "I do vaguely recall a strange glow when I was trying to get back to sleep. I thought it was a car going by."

"... So did I," Dean frowns. "I just covered my head with a pillow. Do you think it was the coin? None of us opened the box and we didn't hear anyone come in..."

Sam's eyes are filled with concern, mulling over a thought he's not ready to voice yet. Dean doesn't blame him, the ideas running through his own mind aren't exactly nurturing hope. Castiel is quiet once more, unsure what to say and thinking it best if he just keeps to the sidelines. He's still under the impression that his help pretty much ensures defeat.

Just to be sure, the trio heads out to go over the town again. It's quiet just like the day before, yet there's something in the air... something strange. Like a veil has been lifted from the neighborhood and now their eyes are finally open. It's an unsettling feeling, however they shake it off and continue on their way.

Asking around the place brings the knowledge that there aren't any more deaths, good news on a slightly cloudy day that threatens rain. Speaking with the police brings up nothing, it's like the deaths of before never happened... as if those people never existed. It's something they've never come across before, unsettling them even though they thought they had seen and experienced everything. Just to be certain Sam gets on a computer in the library, only a few buildings down from the police station, searching for any of the victims through the web. There isn't a single file on them; not a birth certificate, newspaper clipping, obituary... nothing.

"You've gotta be shitting me," Dean hisses out within the silent room. "Nothing? Absolutely _nothing_? This has never _happened_ before! What the hell are we _dealing_ with, Sammy?"

"I've been thinking, Dean," Sam sighs out. "What if those people never existed to begin with? What if this whole thing was a rouse to draw us out? This could've been a trap since the beginning."

"There's no reason for anyone to try and trap you," Castiel comments from the table behind them. "This isn't the work of any demon I've ever come across, nor is it a ghost or specter. This is angel activity in a way, but the only angel that could do it is Metatron... and his specialty was never something like this. He's just a scribe after all."

Dean lets his head fall to his hands, an almost whining groan emitting from his lips. All he needs right now is to be the target of yet another new creature. They're in no condition to fight something they haven't the information on, especially if that something is like a siren. Dean isn't known for his triumph over sirens after all... neither is Sam. Though... a part of him is curious to know what it would appear to him now. Last time it was a brother he could trust, but this time he has to wonder if it wouldn't be Castiel. The thought stirs the memory of his dream, his sex harden minutely before he forces his libido under control.

"What do we do now?" he mutters to no one in particular.

No one answers, the trio lost for the next step. Dean is hoping with everything he is that the coin has nothing to do with his dream, he can't deal with all this on top of a possibly deadly sigil. He looks at his companions, his eyes dropping to the floor at the thought of what he's not telling them. Sam doesn't notice, however Castiel does. Though he doesn't say anything, Dean knows he'll be questioning him when they're alone... something he's not looking forward to.

 


	2. Nurse and Confidant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's dream has really shaken him up, but his pride won't allow him to share it. The best the others can get is a promise he'll tell them before it gets too bad. Unfortunately, it's an empty promise given to quiet them. In all actuality, Dean is taking it hard. The only person he can talk to is Kevin, the only person in the group that won't go off on him or tease him to death. Kevin, of course, is a genius. It takes him very little information, which is about what he receives, to figure out the basics of what's going on. In the meantime, Dean chats with Charlie on the net about the interaction... and she pulls up some rather disturbing links.

The sun is going down when they finally reach their hideout. The wind is a gentle breeze through the sparse trees, carrying a chill upon it they can't feel in the impala. The moon will be gone tonight, lost to the darkness of a new stage. The bunker is a hulking building, towering over them as they park and looming like an imposing figure as they exit the car. Dean doesn't like to call it home, he's afraid it'll be taken away like everything else when he does. Besides, secret lair sounds _so_ much cooler! Ever since they attempted to seal the gates of Hell... and failed, though more due to the fact Dean simply can't function in society without Sam... Kevin and Castiel have been living within the men of letter's bunker with the Winchesters. It's not Kevin's idea of a perfect life, but it's better than going back to the life he no longer has... no college future, no girlfriend, and no mother. He's alone save for the three that look after him.

Sam leads their little group into the place, the entrance beneath a hill that sits a ways from the building. It's similar to an old factory or plant, though only from the outside. Inside there are flags on the walls, machines lining the central room's walls, and numerous rooms off of that. They spend most of their time in the library, but this place was built to house an army in a functioning environment. Dean loves to linger in the kitchen, probably the only one of the four that can cook. It was one of the best things he brought out of his year of retirement. Though he was content with Lisa and Ben, the woman he was fond of and her son, he was never meant for an 'apple pie' life. It was best for him to leave and have Castiel wash their memories of him.

Sam descends the spiral staircase in hurried steps, the metal clattering beneath his movements, and enters the huge central area to stop at the lit up table. It was more or less dormant before the angels fell, but went crazy when they did. Dean had to cut the alarms when they returned. There are still a lot of lights on the map built their, however there isn't much they can do about it at this moment. There are no angels to go up against Metatron, so they've been searching for another way. The answers are most likely on the angel tablet, yet Kevin has only had a week or two with it and this time the boys aren't rushing him. Last time they practically ushered him right into Crowley's arms, a mistake they aren't prepared to make again.

"Kevin?" Sam calls. "You still here?"

"Of course I am," the genius prophet calls back from the library. "I rarely ever leave. The only people I even _want_ to talk to _live_ here... and sometimes I don't even want to talk to _them_! Speaking of which, what the hell took you so long? Did you at least stop and get groceries while you were lingering about town?"

Sam smirks and sets a few bags on a coffee table. They're packed with fruits and vegetables, a few different types of meats, canned goods, and boxes of dinner mixes. Castiel is right behind him with some more, his eyes wide with that childish curiosity he so often portrays. Dean, however, is still on the balcony above. His eyes roam over the half played games of chess and the stained coffee mugs left behind in haste. It never seemed right to clean them up, erasing the former presences that lived within the bunker before them. He's always wondered about the people that last set foot here; who were they, what were they doing here, where did they come from... things like that. He's never been the type to think deeply on things at first glance, but he was far deeper than he let on at times.

"Dean! Get down here and help put this shit away!" Sam calls.

"I'll be right there," he answers. "Just give me a few minutes... and don't touch my kitchen! I have it set up just the way I like it!"

"Then get your ass down here!"

Dean rolls his eyes and heads down the spiral staircase, sighing a bit as he scratches at his shoulder. He had noticed his skin was peeling on the way here, yet told Sam he just had a sunburn. He doesn't know why he didn't just come out and say something, the disbelieving look on the taller male's face almost had him breaking from his lie... or stammering to make matters worse. The burn has been a dull ache that's plagued him all day, the material of his shirt's sleeve rubbing against the irritated skin harshly. At one point in time the need to cast off the covering was nearly unbearable.

Castiel is pulling some vegetables from the bags, eyes pinned on Dean for only a moment. He's noticed the way the other has been acting, a strange sense of wariness settling within his mind. It isn't normal, the way the other is acting... he seems evasive and worried. Though it isn't easy to spot at times, it's getting easier to read the green-eyed hunter. Those impossibly blue orbs check to see if Sam shares his discovery, yet he's disappointed. The younger hunter is preoccupied with the canned goods, searching the cabinets for a spot to place them. The older hunter immediately pulls a can of green beans from his younger brother's hand before he can just set it down where ever there's room.

"Those go over here in the pantry," he murmurs. "I'll do it, just go... busy yourselves elsewhere. Like I said, my kitchen is set up _exactly_ how I like it."

"If you say so," Sam smirks.

Dean learned a while back that Sam does this on purpose, sets things where ever he sees a spot. It's so he'll get kicked out and Dean does all the work. The older sibling doesn't mind, he prefers stocking the kitchen himself. Sam roams away from his brother, smirking at Castiel as he goes. He's been reading through the books in the library and probably wants to continue with his self appointed mission. Dean ignores Sam's footfalls as they grow more silent. He sighs in content and grabs the bag of cans, entering the large pantry and setting them on a middle shelf. The pantry is large, fit to stock for an army, and the shelves have been meticulously organized to suit Dean's needs. He had spent an entire week planning out how to set up his kitchen, so he's not about to allow another to ruin it. As he rummages through to match up the cans, he doesn't notice the presence at the door. A couple more bags are set beside the last one, mostly boxes and a few more canned goods.

"... Cas?" he questions without turning around.

"Yes."

"Uh... you don't have to help," Dean remarks nervously. "I got this, man. Maybe you can help Kevin with something."

"I'm not here to help you," Castiel comments in a knowing tone. "You obviously don't like people messing around in the kitchen. I'm here to talk to you. You've been acting strangely since you woke up and I want to know why."

Dean swallows almost audibly, ignoring the little voice in his head screaming obscenities at him. Castiel moves closer and the hunter's hand misses the shelf in his distraction, almost dropping a can onto his foot before he scrambles to catch it. It's so quiet within the space, one that seems to grow smaller by the second, that it's easy to feel the building tension. The can is caught by Castiel, who carefully hands it over. His fingers brush the skin of Dean's hand, a blush blossoming on the hunter's face as heat flows through his veins. Deep down he knows something isn't right, he knows a dam was broken and there's no way to patch it up before the flood drowns him... but he wouldn't be Dean if he didn't try until his last breath. He opens his mouth to lie his fool ass off, however no sound leaves his throat. He tries a few times with the same result. Both his mouth and throat are far too dry, the need for water pressing against his mind even as the need to be touched by the other strengthens. Finally, he decides to try and talk around the truth. He'll worry about the inability to lie to a now human Castiel later.

"I'm just... not feeling like myself," he states smartly.

"That's the problem," Castiel points out with a raised brow. "When you aren't acting like yourself, you're lying to everyone around you. Sam told me about how you acted when you sold your soul. He mentioned this is the same as then."

"So now you guys are talking about me behind my back," Dean glowers.

Castiel gives him a no-nonsense look, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of turning this around. He's worried about the green eyed hunter, he's not about to let Dean make him feel guilty when he's the one in the wrong. The brunette crosses his arms over his chest, his brows dipping in a subtle glare. He's not moving until they talk and Dean knows that by his stance.

"It's nothing to worry about," Dean sighs in exasperation. "It was a freaky dream, nothing more. Nothing huge happened in it, okay? There were no gods, no goddesses, no vampires, no demons, no supernatural creatures of any kind. Just me and another _human_ in a hotel room, that's it. Do you want to hear about my sexual encounters next, because this is getting into _extremely_ personal waters."

"Any problem can be considered personal," Castiel nearly snaps. "My conflict with Raphael was personal, yet you found it necessary to pry in that! I'm worried about you, Dean! Isn't that what you told me? Family protects one another and sometimes you just have to trust them, whether they have a good reason for their actions or not."

"Exactly," Dean frowns. "So trust me... nothing is wrong."

"And when will it be wrong?" the former angel growls. "When you're minutes from death? When it's too late? When everything has escalated to a point no one can save you? I don't want to wait that long, Dean! I want to fix it _now_! When everything is still small and manageable!"

"There's nothing to fix, Cas!" the hunter snaps. "There's nothing wrong. My health is fine, I'm not cursed, I'm not the target of some deranged psychopath... I'm _fine_. It was just a _dream_! One that made me very uncomfortable and confused, but a dream none the less! Now I don't want to talk about this anymore, okay? I don't want to have to sort through all my emotions, it makes me physically ill."

Castiel opens his mouth a couple more times, wanting to argue further and thinking better of it. He sends Dean one last worried glance, and then leaves the pantry to find Sam or Kevin. Dean waits a long while, letting out a huge breath of relief when he feels it's safe enough. For reasons unknown to him, his hormones were going haywire in the presence of Castiel. He couldn't help but think about that damn dream, wondering if the other would really be that good. He could hear himself swooning in the back of his mind, something completely instinctual demanding he melt at the sound of his friend's voice. He shakes it off as too much caffeine and not enough sleep, his mind always gets freaky when he does that, and goes back to stocking the pantry.

"Did you get some asparagus?" Kevin calls from the island in the middle of the kitchen. "I thought I asked for some, but I can't remember. Oh! Did you get more coffee?"

"Yes and yes," Dean says.

"What's with Castiel? Did something happen between you two?"

The younger male steps in the doorway just in time to see the shiver of pleasure that travels Dean's frame. He raises a brow, yet says nothing about it. It isn't difficult to feel the tension between them, see the looks passed when the other isn't looking, and even a blind man can tell there's an underlying emotion the two share. If only the knowledge managed to leak through their oblivious minds and open their eyes. Since the green eyed hunter didn't notice Kevin's astute features, he continues with the conversation as truthfully as possible.

"Something _did_ happen, but not between us," he informs. "We found a weird coin all the victims' murderers were wearing before they went crazy. We thought it was a cursed object, but facts pointed to a siren and they don't work with those. I fell asleep holding it and... well... I was asleep for a long while I guess. They think I'm lying to them or hiding something... Cas isn't taking that well. I told him what happened though. Short of going over my dream with a fine toothed comb of detail, which is _so_ not happening, I can't give them any more."

"Can you at least give me the cliff-notes?" the other questions curiously. "I mean... you don't have to, I'm just curious."

"... I thought I was waking up from a nap at first," Dean comments thoughtfully. "Like I wasn't dreaming at all. I was in our hotel room, right where I fell asleep. Sam wasn't there, but... Cas was. He said Sam burned the coin and was out looking for the siren. We talked just normal shit at first, but then... things got weird. I got hurt... burned... and that's when I woke up. That's it. Nothing more."

He turns to see Kevin eying him thoughtfully. It's a look Dean has come to be wary of, as that genius brain can draw correct conclusions from very little information. Like when he knew Crowley had him held captive because his Dean and Sam imposters were too nice. The uncomfortable look on Dean's features doesn't help him in any way, it just tells Kevin there's something in that information he's hoping the other doesn't realize. After a moment, the raven haired male shrugs and picks a few boxes out of a nearby bag.

"Sounds to me like nothing happened," he comments as he hands one over. "Although, I'm sure it would make Sam and Castiel feel _much_ better if you promise to tell them if anything weird _does_ happen... and actually follow through when or if it does."

"That should be obvious by now," Dean scoffs. "Nothing ever goes right for us."

"And how many times have you and Sam been truthful with each other?" Kevin inquires knowingly. "Besides, if you can't talk to your brother who _can_ you talk to? You should be able to tell Sam anything and vise-versa, that's what family is for isn't it?"

Dean sighs and allows the small amount of help for now. Kevin isn't so bad, he's like a much younger Bobby... only Asian. Dean likes how he drops hints, yet still stays out of a person's business. The dark haired male sighs and brushes a hand across his head, his hair cut short against his scalp since he was first kidnapped by Crowely. He's grown accustomed to the cut, it helps keep his view unobstructed when he's leaning over a tablet. He's three inches shorter than Castiel at 5' 8", which means Dean can breathe easy with the knowledge he's not in danger of becoming the shortest person in his family of misfits. Growing up with Sam was a little bit of a let down once the other shot up like a weed and left him close to the ground. Though he should be used to Sam towering over him, he can't help but feel overjoyed hes not longer the shortest in their group. It feels good to look down on people once in a while.

"You know... you can tell me anything and I won't break confidence," Kevin remarks out of nowhere. "I'm really good at keeping secrets. I mean... Castiel talks to me all the time and I haven't uttered a thing he's told me."

"... Cas talks to you? About what?"

"When he first came, he used to talk to me about Heaven and what it was like up there for him," Kevin shrugs. "Just stuff that weighed on his mind, family problems, emotions he's not used to. I helped him through it. I mean, you're not the most compassionate person toward him, though I think I know why, and Sam... well... he tries so hard, but he isn't really as close to Castiel as you are. I was someone on the outside looking in, so I helped a lot more than you two thought you did."

"... What did he say?"

"I'm not telling you! The whole point of bringing it up was to prove I can keep a secret, idiot!" Kevin scoffs. "I just wanted you to know I'm a safe person to talk to. I won't judge you... there's been enough of that lately."

Dean nods and give a silent exhale, his heart weighing at the thought of Castiel actually _needing_ to talk to someone... someone that wasn't him. He shakes it off quickly, scolding himself for being such a chick about it. Kevin is quiet the remainder of their task, watching Dean every now and then while still not making an issue of it. It gives the green-eyed male time to think. The time is appreciated greatly, the silence no longer too heavy to bare. In fact, it's quite comforting. It's strange how different it can seem in the company of certain people.

His mind drifts lazily through his random thoughts, landing back on the dream and how it's affected his reactions within Castiel's presence. It's frustrating, the way the world seems to vanish to leave only the two of them there. The phantom feeling of Casitel's hands all over him, his lips pressing firmly against his own, almost drawing a moan from the hunter. In the back of his mind, however, he reminds himself Kevin is still within the large pantry and keeps quiet. He eventually becomes lost in his thoughts, his hand rising to scratch at his marred shoulder. That's when the younger man startles him from his inner musings.

"Dean, what happened to your shoulder? It's all red and bloody."

"... Bloody?"

"Yeah, have you been scratching it all day? Come here so I can look it over in the light."

Dean gives him a strange look, but allows the other to lead him to the island counter and the bar stools there. He's wary of Kevin seeing the thin gold lines in his skin, hoping the blood covers them well enough. Though, had he not been bleeding there would be no need for patching up. Just now, the sting of the burn and the wash of blood become apparent. His sleeve is wet and sticking to his shoulder, raw and painful as though struck with a lit torch. When he doesn't pull off his tee shirt right away, the younger male taps his foot impatiently. A thought occurs to Dean as he pulls his shirt over his head. He voices it with a confused and curious tone.

"So what are you, the nurse now?"

" _Someone_ has to be. I've seen the injuries you and Sam come back with all the time," Kevin admonishes. "I took some online courses so at least _one_ of us will know how to stitch a wound... and _not_ with dental floss and a fish hook. I swear, the way you two mend yourselves it's shocking you haven't died of an infection!"

"Well... whatever works, I guess," Dean shrugs.

The prophet grabs a few red towels, bought for the color just in case they're needed for this, and sits down next to Dean. Carefully, he washes the blood away and studies the wound. He was right to assume they were from fingernails, the thin tracks cut roughly proof of that. In all honesty, the moments he scratched at his shoulder so badly are lost upon the hunter. He simply doesn't recall digging his nails through his flesh with such careless pressure. With a sigh, Kevin rummages beneath the sink for a moment and pulls out a fancy first aid kit. Dean wants to ask where he got it, yet knows better. He either asked Charlie to pick it up or bought it himself. The wiry male dabs alcohol on the open cuts, listening to Dean hiss in pain. Afterward, he spreads a cream on the area and lays a cotton square over it. As he reaches for the bandages, Sam and Castiel enter.

"What the hell, Dean!" Sam utters in shock. "What happened?"

"Probably nothing," Castiel mumbles a bit bitterly.

"I scratched too hard," Dean corrects with a bite. "Ask Kevin, he's been taking medical classes online. I wasn't attacked, okay? If anything weird happens I'll tell you about it, anything at all... even if I lose a random tooth."

"You swear?" Sam frowns.

"I swear."

"You swear on my life? Keeping in mind, I really _will_ seal the gates to Hell if you lie."

"I swear on your fucking life! Leave me the hell alone!"

Sam seems content with that, nodding before joining Kevin. Castiel stays in the doorway, ever silent and watchful. The gaze upon broad shoulders does nothing to still Dean's libido, the heat within those eyes drilling into his very core without trying. Whether or not he's completely imagining it all has yet to be discovered, though he has no desire to delve into such personal emotions.

The taller Winchester checks over Dean's shoulder, shaking his head at his brother. He doesn't notice the slight tremor that travels his frame from the feeling of blue eyes upon his back. Kevin doesn't either, too busy shooing Sam's hands away so he can continue with the small patch job. Once he's finished, Dean wanders off to his room for some quiet time. Sam shrugs his shoulders and returns to his reading, leaving Castiel with Kevin.

Kevin is quiet a long time, turning to pull a couple beers from the fridge. It's an invitation and Castiel knows that. He sits across from Kevin on one of the stools that line the island counter, taking the offered beer and waiting for the other to speak first. This is how it usually is, it's been this way since Castiel lost his grace. Kevin drinks deep from the dark bottle, he's not twenty-one yet but that hardly seems to matter in their lifestyle. As he waits, he can hear Sam turning pages in the library. Footsteps are still echoing down the halls as the older hunter makes his way to his room, the lights overhead buzzing in rhythm with the machines in the other room. Finally, he sighs and glances at Castiel's downtrodden form.

"You're seriously worried, aren't you?" he asks.

"Yes, aren't you?"

"Not as much as you, apparently. I can understand, a bond like the one you two have from pulling him out of Hell can't be easy to shake off. No matter how many times he dies and comes back."

"It lasts for all eternity," Castiel shrugs as though it's trivial. "Many angels have gone through it... I once heard one of them say they could feel their human's emotions through three lifetimes. I had thought it was astounding, they weren't soul-mates after all. Cupids were forbidden to link an angel with a human in that way."

Kevin keeps his mouth shut, the other way past having to be reminded he's no longer beneath Heaven's thumb. He drinks a little more, mulling over what Dean had said before. He's definitely not stupid, he has a perfectly clear idea what Dean may have dreamed about. Obviously, he's not about to ruin the trust he's instilled in the other. Especially not when there's so much more to talk about, so much more he needs to get off his chest. The older hunter is by far the most difficult to get talking, which means this first-time triumph is a starting point Kevin can't afford to lose. Castiel can see the cogs working in his mind through his eyes. It's easy to see that Dean spoke with the other about his problems, a flash of hurt hitting the former angel harder than he's like to admit.

"He talked to you?"

"A little bit," he shrugs. "Cliff-notes really. Of course, cliff-notes were always my way of studying. Not that _he_ knows that."

"What did you pull from them?"

"Whatever dream he had was embarrassing and unexpected, but had a huge impact on him," Kevin sighs. "Nothing dangerous, definitely not the work of any creature I know... just personal stuff. That's all I'm giving you, Cas. Sorry. I don't tell them what you tell me and I'm not gonna tell you what they do."

"I understand. I'm just glad to know he's not in danger... at least not yet. Sometimes creatures that invade dreams don't leave... they linger to feed off their target. If that's what's happening, we need to catch the signs of weakness before it's too late."

Kevin nods in agreement, though he's positive Dean will be fine. They go back to small talk, something they've both come to appreciate. It's never about anything serious, leaving the thought of hunts and enemies outside the bunker. Normally the weather comes up, things learned within the various books there, or maybe what certain artifacts were used for and how they were made. The later is normally information Castiel remembers from the time the objects were created. They can hear Sam flipping pages in the library, oblivious to everything around him. So lost in the information, the end of the world couldn't possible get through to him now. Anything thoughts on Dean and his strange behavior are pushed to the side.

Dean lies back on his bed and tucks his hands beneath his head. His room is his haven, one he's never really known before finding the bunker. Decorated in weapons and cleaned to the perfection of a soldier, just like he was taught, it's difficult to tell it belongs to the slightly disheveled male. He has a bookshelf on one side of the room and a long table on the other, a chest at the end of his bed for his clothes, and a chair he left in a corner for the angel he had hoped was still alive. When he searched for this amazing healer for Sam, he was all but putting his entire stock of faith in them. When Castiel walked into the room, however, his heart soared so high he thought he'd never come down again. Sure the ill feelings of betrayal still lingered, yet they were nothing compared to the elation of finding the other alive and well. Nothing has ever struck him so strongly, save for the despair that drowned him in misery when Sam died. He sighs and erases the thoughts from his mind, turning to something a bit more mundane.

He'll have to fix dinner soon, but for now he can relax. There's a beep over on his table, his eyes straying to the laptop that sits there. He used to use Sam's laptop, but after the fifteenth time he messed it up with porn pop-ups Sam forced him to get his own. He thought it was fucking hilarious, the look on his younger brother's face was priceless! He turns and sits up, moving over to the table and leaning down to rest his forearms on the hard wood. The sound was an email alert, one sent from Charlie, which he opens with a smirk.

"How'd it go?" he scoffs as he reads. "I'll tell you how it went."

He quickly types a reply with hasty taps of his fingertips on keys and sends it off, about to go back to bed when a chat bar pops up. He pulls out the chair there and seats himself, sighing at the almost urgent feel to her exclamation. Everything is always urgent with the little redheaded hacker, her ability to dramatize and overreact never failing to amaze. He relays what happened, leaving out a lot of detail when it comes to his dream, and waits for a reply. It isn't long before questions about the coin pop up and he gladly describes it, overjoyed she's not making a fuss about his sleeping habits. A few minutes later, which Dean spends resting his head on the table lazily, she remarks on the designs and sends a few links.

"Holy shit," he mutters. "That's exactly what the pictures looked like."

She's told as much, to which she sends a few more links. She warns him to be careful and tell the others about this, apologizes for the careless job she did before and promises to not repeat it. Before she had just skimmed newspaper clippings and magazine articles, but now she'll be doing more in-depth research to help out. It's greatly appreciated, the tedious chore of searching for jobs gladly passed on to someone else. Irritation drawn from the entire situation has nothing to do with the woman that placed them in it, however she won't listen to that. Charlie has to go anyway and he doesn't mind, he has reading to do. As soon as she's off the net, Dean clicks on the links. He isn't too far into them when his eyes go large and he utters a quiet 'fuck'.

Dean never came down to start dinner, so Sam is in charge of it tonight. The smell of homemade beef stew wafts throughout the bunker, drawing rumbles of hunger from those present. It's one of a few recipes he learned from his older brother, one of his favorites. The bubbling liquid within the pot is the only noise within the kitchen, a bowl of salad on the island counter awaiting the table, and Sam is just pulling out the bowls and spoons to set out.

Castiel is playing chess with Kevin, something the younger man spent days patiently teaching to him. He's turning out to be an extremely quick learner, which is a relief for Sam and Dean. With Kevin using every inch of his patience to teach Castiel about human interaction... with the occasional not so helpful input from Dean on sexual situations and comments... the former angel is showing talent in reading people without needing to say a word. The brothers have begun setting him off to the side to watch as they interview people and suspects, letting him take mental notes on their behavior for later use.

"Okay, dinner's done!" Sam calls. "Someone go get Dean."

"I'll go," Castiel remarks.

He's gone before anyone can say anything more. He doesn't rush his steps, merely keeps with a steady gait. There isn't a single thought running through his head that doesn't concern Dean, his worry only strengthening with each possible outcome this sadistic creature might look for. It's always been this way, the overwhelming worry that takes hold upon a new threat. He never understood it, still doesn't, and yet he's compelled to protect the older Winchester. At first, the duty lain upon him by his elder angels was the cause. After a short amount of time, however, he realized it was all him. There was simply no way to push aside the need for contact... for that righteous presence that set his Grace ablaze. A strange shiver passes through him, one he isn't familiar with.

By the time he reaches Dean's door, his stomach is sick with nerves. Castiel gathers himself and knocks on the door, waiting only a moment before opening it. He's not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this silence. At the most, perhaps there should've been Metallica blaring from the speakers of the stereo bought a couple states over after a job. Instead, the room is still. The fan above is moving slowly, the quiet whir nearly soft enough to overlook, and there isn't a bit of trash on the floor. After the wrappers and bags from fast food cluttering the impala's backseat, this is a new side of the older Winchester Castiel never knew about. He steps into the spotless room, glancing about for the one he seeks. Dean is sleeping on his table, his laptop dead beside him. With a sigh, Castiel plugs in the charger like Kevin showed him and reaches over to lift Dean out of his chair. The other doesn't even flinch as he's lain in bed, the blankets pulled over him before Castiel leaves just as quietly as he came.

Sam and Kevin are at the table waiting, surprised when the former angel returns empty-handed. Castiel doesn't say anything more than 'Dean was sleeping', sitting down to eat with the others. Sam shrugs and dishes out the food. He's not a gourmet chef, but he's not bad at cooking. He had to learn when he was in college. Then again, a few lessons from his once retired brother didn't hurt any. It's when they're just beginning the meal that he asks Castiel about his brother.

"He was sleeping," Castiel repeats with a slight shrug. "I put him to bed and came back here."

"You didn't try to wake him?"

"Sam, if he didn't wake when he was picked up, I doubt he would wake if Cas tried to shake him," Kevin remarks. "He'll eventually get hungry and come down, no sense in worrying about it."

Sam relents, shaking the feeling of incoming dread. Dean can handle himself, he's proven that multiple times. Besides, he wouldn't want his older brother bothering _him_ like this. He'll back off and hope Dean has the sense enough to ask for help if things get ugly. Though past experiences dictate he should probably stay two inches from the other at all times, Sam is willing to add a couple inches for his brother's sanity. Silence reigns over the table as they eat, all of them glancing toward the doorway throughout the meal in case Dean should show up.

The green-eyed hunter wakes with a start, surprised to find himself in his bed. The lingering scent of mint and summer teases his nose, something he never would've noticed before his strange dream, and he knows instinctively that Castiel was in his room. It sends a warmth through him that pools in his gut, his sex stirring at the feeling before he squashes the desire. Through the bombardment of the most disgusting things he's ever seen, he makes the sudden realization that his computer was on when he fell asleep. He looks over at the device quickly, afraid someone might have seen what Charlie sent him, and breathes a sigh of relief when he finds the screen black. It died before his haven was intruded upon by the former angel. He gets out of bed, wondering if Castiel placed him there or if he might have missed the scent of his brother, and heads downstairs to silence his growling stomach. The others are still seated at the table talking, their bowls empty before them.

"About time you came down," Sam frowns.

"Did you put me to bed?" Dean wonders groggily.

"Not me, Cas did. We sent him up to bring you down, but you weren't stirring a bit."

He mumbles a thanks to Cas as he sits down, avoiding eye contact easily. He had another dream, though he can't remember what it was about. He knows without a doubt, however, that if he looks at Castiel he'll blush to the point of passing out.

"Is something wrong, Dean?" Castiel inquires.

"N-no, nothing."

The trio looks him over suspiciously, yet lets him be for now. Kevin knows what's wrong, he's positive about his earlier theory now... Dean is acting like a high school girl with a serious case of puppy love. He smirks to himself, going back to his book before anyone can notice. It serves the player right, a good does of karma after sleeping about and breaking so many hearts along his travels. Sam, on the other hand, is worried. Dean's never acted like this. He's not ready to see what Kevin does, as he's never come across something like this in his brother. The older hunter doesn't settle down, he doesn't fall in love, he never gets serious... so how could Sam know. Dean avoids the eyes around him, cursing himself for acting strangely. He can't help it though... that nap was more than sleep deprivation and he knows that without a doubt now.


	3. When the Past Bites You in the Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean are at each other's throats, one worried and the other fed up. Though Kevin knows what's going on, Sam can't get a lick of information from him on it. The only one that hasn't pissed off Dean, Kevin is voted mediator and calls the hunter out on his crush. Tired of all the attention, Dean skips out to the next town to be alone... well... he takes Kevin, but the prophet knows to give him space. Unfortunately, Dean isn't alone in the small bar he holes up at... and they have less than pure intentions for him.

Sam has had enough. It's been twenty-four hours since they left town and Dean has been increasingly snappish toward Castiel, almost as though the former angel has betrayed him one more time and it was the breaking point. Of course, it doesn't help that Castiel won't let up on the hunter. He's positive, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that something is wrong with Dean. The two stubborn males are driving Sam nuts. He's found temporary peace in the library with Kevin, the other lounging on a couch and reading. The lights are buzzing as their faint glow fills the room, the smell of old books filling the large room with ease. It's the most relaxing smell the former college student has ever been around, something to remind him of studying and tests... of friends and a normal life he never got to finish. He loves his brother and loves saving so many people, but that craving for knowledge and normalcy will forever haunt him.

"It won't last forever," the young man assures. "Eventually, they'll realize what's _really_ going on and stop all the bickering."

"The problem isn't the bickering, Kevin," Sam sighs. "It's the fact I think Cas is right... Dean is hiding something from us. I know he said he's fine and I know I said I'd give him room to breathe, but I feel it just like Cas does. He's getting _extremely_ good at following his gut, though I wish he wouldn't hold onto it like a pit bull."

"If Dean needs us, he knows we're right here."

"He'll need us depending on the circumstances of the problem," the other snorts derisively.

Kevin is about to ask what he means, but there's a crash of something breakable... most likely a glass... and Castiel retreats quickly into the library. Dean is hot on his heels, a look of almost feminine wrath upon his face. Sam stifles the humored snicker rapidly. It won't pay to have his older brother notice, that wrath will only widen in radius... and targets. At the moment, the green-eyed hunter is gripping tight to a book. The threat of throwing it is in those pools, lit with a furious storm of anger at the moment, and blue eyes return that expression with challenge and annoyance.

"I told you I'm fine!" Dean shouts. "Leave me alone, damn it!"

"You're not fine! You're acting completely out of character!" Castiel argues. "You're locking yourself in your room, you're acting nervous and fidgety, you're having nightmares no matter the time of day or night you doze off, and you're sleeping more! Have you even _thought_ about going out on another job?"

"Stop reading so much into it, Cas, I'm just not feeling well," Dean frowns. "You were right, is that what you want to hear? You were right! Not sleeping for so long made me sick! Are you happy?"

"No, I'm not happy. I don't want you sick, Dean."

"Then let me sleep it off and nurse myself back to health! I don't need all this stress right now!"

In a huff, Dean turns and marches back to his room. The book is abandoned on the long table in the middle of the library, Castiel visibly relaxing once it's out of Dean's hands. The interaction is surprising, though they've gotten in plenty arguments before. Normally it's the older Winchester pressing the former angel for answers, not the other way around. Sam is wide-eyed, unable to make sense of the scene that's unfolded before him, however Kevin doesn't remove his eyes from his book. This time the two notice. Castiel sits on an armchair near the prophet, glancing at Sam in question before they both turn on the younger male. The silence has gone from companionable to tense, something that doesn't go overlooked.

"You know what's going on, don't you?" Sam accuses.

"I know a little... it's just a theory, though. We talked, he told me some stuff, I pieced it together," Kevin shrugs. "It's no big deal, you know. Nothing to do with a creature as far as I can tell. I'm reading up on the different abilities right now to make sure."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam frowns.

"I don't gossip, Sam," Kevin remarks with a glare. "When someone trusts me with a secret, I don't blab it all over the place. I keep it. He's not the only one that's told me stuff I haven't passed on, you know. It's not detrimental to his health at the moment, so leave it be. If I turn up something, _then_ I'll tell you."

Though they want to argue the point further, the two sigh and sit back in their chairs. When they had all gotten together after the fall of the angels, they had thought it a great idea. Now, seeing that they're nothing more than four bullheaded men that refuse to give ground... it's not looking so promising. Of course, they would never break up. They're family and as dysfunctional as it may be, they'll always be there for one another... they're all each other has anymore.

Dean sighs and gazes at the screen in irritation. He has no idea what to do now. He's not in trouble, so there's no need to embarrass himself by telling the others what Charlie found yet, but he can't ignore the fact that something might seriously be wrong with him. He can't hide _that_ either, as the more he dreams about Castiel the greater the fact his emotions are getting the better of him becomes. He can't face those emotions, so he'll keep snapping at Castiel to push him away. He just can't be hurt like that, he wouldn't be able to survive it. This isn't like when he had to have the former angel wipe Lisa's and Ben's memories of him, they were regular people in a normal life. He cared for them, but he didn't get as attached to them as he has Castiel.

"Dean, are you okay?" Kevin asks through the closed door. "And before you ask, I'm alone. Since I'm the only one _not_ irritating you, I've been voted the mediator."

"Lucky you," Dean scoffs.

"Can I come in?"

"I suppose."

The dark haired male opens the door with a sigh and closes it behind him. He seems a bit irritated, though not because of his visit to the hunter. He was in the middle of translating when implored to speak with the other, so he'll have to find his spot all over again. Dean is stretched out on his bed, his arms tucked behind his head and his green eyes staring at the prophet questioningly. It's a strange look to see upon his features, as he's normally so certain and confident. Right now, deep within green eyes, there's a small flicker of emotion the other can easily place as 'lost'. Kevin pulls over the rolling desk chair and sits down, regarding the hunter for a short moment.

"You're not being very nice to Cas, you know," he remarks. "Your attitude is driving Sam crazy... he sees it as a sign you're hiding something."

"That's because he's paranoid."

"No, it's because it's true," Kevin frowns. "I may not know everything, but I _do_ know you're crushing hard on Castiel."

"I am _not_!" Dean snaps. "I wasn't before... it's not my... Gah! This is ridiculous! Why am I even _talking_ to you!"

"Because I won't blab it all over the safe-house," he points out. "Besides, I already had a feeling you two were avoiding that revelation. Your dream just solidified my theory. I haven't told anyone, by the way."

Dean mumbles a quiet thanks at that, yet he's still unnerved anyone would think he has those feelings for the former angel. He's noticed he's always been more sensitive when it comes to Castiel; his betrayals always cut deeper, his opinions always stung worse. He never thought it could be anything quite like a crush, though. He's always had an eye for the women. Then again, looking back on his actions, he can see that he checked out just as many men as he did women. He had contemplated his sexuality as 'bi' a few times in his youth, yet never made an attempt to experiment on it. His former attitude toward it was 'it was a bigger playing field', something that appealed to him greatly... does so even now. He silently curses his hormones and their insatiability. It's entirely possible he's been interested in Castiel for much longer than he's realized.

"I'm not into him like that," Dean states. "Now leave it alone! I'm just not feeling well, that's _all_. It has _nothing_ to do with that stupid dream or some creature that may have caused it! I'm perfectly _fine_ , there's nothing wrong with me, and anything you guys may think is all in your fucking heads!"

"... Whatever you say, Dean," Kevin shrugs. "Just remember, you can't deny it forever. And if you don't start acting a bit nicer to Cas, Sam is going to lock you up until you tell him everything."

Dean grumbles to himself and turns away from Kevin, telling him without words that he's through talking. The prophet sighs and gets up, exiting the room and leaving the hunter to his own thoughts. It only takes a few moments for Dean to come up with a course of action after that... he needs to find Aphrodite. If anyone can undo what's happened to him, it's the goddess that did it in the first place. He sighs heavily and packs a bag, placing his laptop and its charger within the cloth, and then hurries to the library.

As he thought, everyone is in the library. Cas and Kevin are playing a game of chess and Sam is reading through a book of Greek mythology. He shudders at the thought of his younger brother learning of the coin's symbols. At the sight of him with a packed bag, however, they all stare in trepidation. They had made a promise in the beginning of their lives together; no one would leave and they would all stick together from there on out. The fact that Dean is about to jump into his impala and drive off without them, because it's completely obvious by his wary expression he plans to, sends a panic so strong throughout them that they feel as though they could throw up. Sam is the first to speak, trying hard to give his brother the benefit of the doubt and knowing he doesn't deserve it at this point in time. Instead of easing into it as he planned and talking the other down, he holds his breath and jumps right in.

"Uh... Dean... what the hell do you think you're doing?" he wonders.

"I'm leaving," he remarks as he starts his practiced speech full of excuses. "Not forever... just until I'm better. This place is stressful for me, so I'm going to stay in a hotel in town. Don't worry, I'll call everyday to check in. I just... I can't stay around here. I just want to go back to work and I know I'm not ready for that, so..."

"Sit down," Sam frowns before going back to the book. "You're not going anywhere."

"Uh... yeah, actually, I am."

"I'm not letting you leave on your own, Dean," he states in finality. "You wouldn't let me go off on _my_ own if our positions were switched, I'm not letting you. Now go unpack or I'm gonna lock you in our dungeon."

It's said so matter-of-factly that Dean can't help but gawk at his younger brother. He presses his luck and steps closer to the stairwell, only to have a knife thrown his way. The blade sings through the air as it sails through, glinting in the light of the lamps. It imbeds itself in the wall beside his head with a loud thunk, Sam glowering in warning at his stubborn sibling. The older hunter's eyes are wide in shock, looking between the blade dug deep in the wall and a furious Sam. Apparently Kevin wasn't kidding, the taller brother is seriously fed up with the arguing. Kevin utters a sound of shock and rises from his seat, almost knocking the table over with their game atop it.

"That's enough!" he states. "The lack of action has you two so riled you're likely to kill one another! I'd prefer my new extremely _psychotic_ and dysfunctional family not _kill_ themselves out of boredom! If Dean thinks being here isn't helping him heal, let him go into town, it's only twenty miles away. If it makes you feel better, get a room on the other end of town or something! Don't kill one another to prove a fucking point!"

"Kevin is right," Castiel adds.

His cheek is resting in his hand, his elbow on the table. He's watching everything transpire with a hint of curiosity and interest in his blue eyes. He looks almost child-like as he leans on the table. Dean tears his eyes away from Castiel's, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest he's afraid the others can hear it as well. Any attempt to quiet the thumping organ serves to make it creep closer to his ears, gaining sound and setting his nerves aflame with anxiety. Sam catches the slight flush to his cheeks, though he chalks it up to a fever.

In the end, Kevin is sent with Dean and Sam starts looking for another job in the town for him and Castiel. Dean is glad he's away from the two main problems, however he really just wanted to be alone. Kevin isn't likely to hover over his shoulder like a finicky parent, so that's a good thing. Maybe he'll be able to weasel out of taking him everywhere with him.

They step outside and toward the impala, the day soft and cool for the season. Gardening isn't really their thing, so wildflowers are the only things that bloom around their secret lair. Their settings are random and left to mother nature to set up. The sky is a rich blue, though not as rich as Castiel's eyes, and the clouds are sparse. Any breeze is soft enough to ignore, the chill upon it unable to be registered if ever there was one to begin with. The impala purrs to life when the key is turned, Dean sighing in relief the moment they drive away from the stress left behind. Though he doesn't want to admit if, it's in the form of a husky voice that does wonders to his libido.

"I'll get the room next to yours," Kevin remarks without looking up from his open book. "I know I'm supposed to stay with you, but I don't see the harm in that. You need time to yourself to think, I understand that."

"... Thanks, Kevin."

He nods and turns the page, falling into silence once more. For the first time in a week, Dean feels free. He's determined to forget this strange and sudden... in his opinion... attraction to Castiel. The minute he gets his room and drops Kevin off at the library, he makes a beeline for a bar and hopes to either locate Aphrodite or a curvacious distraction.

Dean sighs and downs another drink, his search turning up nothing. Sure there's a large line of women just begging for his attention, but he just can't seem to find the lusty attraction he normally works off of. There's so much to distract him; the smell of alcohol and smoke tickling his nose, the soft giggling of the women gazing upon him with lustful eyes, and even the occasional drunken man throwing him a wolf whistle. Okay, that's a new one. Yet all he can think of is Castiel and his firm body, his full lips, his perfect blue eyes, his deep husky voice... Dean's lets his head hit the table hard at the path his thoughts are taking.

"Son of a bitch," he mutters. "I'm supposed to be _forgetting_ that ass, not thinking about him _more_! Aphrodite is such a vindictive bitch, I can't believe she's doing this to me. And for what? A good laugh? When this is all over, those feelings will be over, too. _Then_ what am I supposed to do? Live in regret and shame? This sucks."

He resists the urge to pout, ordering something stronger than the beer he's been drinking. As he downs the first of many shots to come, a busty woman with long black locks slides into the chair across from him. Her full lips are painted red and Dean realizes the color hurts his eyes. Her skin looks so soft and supple, which only serves to make him uncomfortable... it would be so easy to hurt her, she's so fragile and soft. Large blue doe eyes gaze upon him in a sultry manner, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. She's absolutely beautiful, the type of woman he would charm the panties off of in seconds, and yet the urge to bed her lies dormant. It has since the incident with the Amazon, his mind over thinking every flirtatious gaze and lustful smirk. What if this is another of them? What if they end up pregnant, too? What would he do if they're something far worse? The questions plague him horribly and kill any arousal that may have addled his brain in the past. This time, however, he _needs_ this. Needs the distraction and confirmation of his sexuality. He turns all his attention onto the woman sitting across from him.

"My, aren't you a handsome man," she comments. "Are you here all alone, honey?"

"Yes," he mutters. "I'm looking for someone... specific."

He adds the last word quickly, hoping it'll dissuade her attempts at picking him up. It doesn't, just makes her a little more interested. She entwines her fingers and sets them in front of her lips. It makes her look a bit sinister, though Dean realizes it's a typical move from the majority of the women he's picked up. An attempt at being sultry, no doubt... albeit a poor attempt. He downs another shot, stopping after a moment. His head is too warm, he hasn't felt the beginnings of being drunk for many years. As Sam had mentioned before, it's impossible for him to get drunk anymore... it's like a vitamin by now. His head is dizzy, lurching about randomly as he fights to stay seated on his chair.

"I need some fresh air," he mutters.

He stumbles from his chair, grasping a table before forcing himself onward. A small voice in the back of his mind screams that this is a bad idea, tries desperately to remind him of something he knows he should be aware of. Unfortunately, he can't seem to focus on the tiny voice. The woman that was sitting with him hums to herself, grabbing her purse and following with a smile. Outside, Dean falls to the sidewalk. His world is spinning far too fast. He glances to the right and catches sight of a man in a trench coat and a taller male in jeans. He can tell even through his blurred vision that they're Castiel and Sam. The two are quite a ways away, but they're hurrying to his side. Their voices are so distant it kills any hope of them reaching him, their figures blurring as his vision starts to fail him. The woman from the bar steps out, gripping the back of Dean's collar and lifting him as though he's a feather. Her free hand swings down to press against his chest, his green pools catching sight of a familiar brand on her wrist. The screech of tires sounds and a black van rolls toward them, the woman throwing him in without care to any injuries he might get. By the time Castiel and Sam reach them, the van is plowing down the street recklessly.

"No!" Sam yells out as he grips his head. "I _knew_ we shouldn't have let him go off on his own!"

"He wasn't, Kevin was supposed to be with him," Castiel points out.

"I should've gone with him _myself_! How are we supposed to find an unmarked van with... wait... did you see that woman?" he wonders suddenly.

"Yes, she was very beautiful," Castiel comments, a hint of bitterness hidden in his tone.

"No, I mean... she lifted Dean up like he weighed _nothing_ ," Sam comments. "Last time that happened, we were up against Amazons and... oh no! They tempted Dean then, too! He hasn't had sex since they used him to have a kid and sent it to kill him!"

"... What? When were you two going to tell me Dean had a child?" Castiel inquires a bit affronted.

"He doesn't, I killed her," Sam waves off. "Come on, we have to find Kevin so we can find Dean!"

Castiel blinks in confusion, yet heads off after Sam anyway. The night is anything but still, the town thriving in the nightlife, and they have to dodge many people roaming the sidewalks. They find Kevin walking along the street with a few books, his eyes wide in curiosity when they rush him. The expressions upon their faces tells him something is wrong, yet he can only assume it has something to do with their job. When he's told about Dean's disappearance, his jaw drops in surprise. He pulls the two after him and toward the impala, which Dean had been driving before the abduction.

Back at the hotel, Kevin grabs up a newspaper and then pulls out his laptop. He lays the paper down and turns the laptop around for them to read, bringing up the older articles from the town. Sam sits down and looks them over, frowning at the sight. He had looked these very disappearances over before in hopes it was a job, but nothing ever came of them. Now that he looks at them more closely, he can see where he was wrong. There are four men; a surgeon, an athlete, a banker, and an architect. All are successful, all are brilliant, and all were taken a week apart. Dean marks the next victim, taken exactly a week after the last.

"They've gotten smarter," Sam sighs. "They're not leaving the bodies strewn about after their daughters murder them. They'd need a quiet place to work, someplace away from prying eyes where others aren't likely to go."

"Like an abandoned warehouse?" Kevin wonders. "I can tell you with certainty that there aren't any here. There are a few abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, but nothing like a warehouse."

"Where are the ones no one could hear you screaming from?" Sam asks.

"... That doesn't inspire much hope," Castiel frowns. "Dean will be okay, won't he?"

"He will if _we_ have anything to say about it."

Dean groans and lifts a hand to his head. His sight is still blurry and he feels as though he's on a horrible hangover, but he's alive and he's glad for that... for now. The mattress beneath him is lumpy and smells of mold, the springs under it digging into his back, and he carefully gets up to take in his surroundings. He's in a jail cell, the iron bars blocking off his only exit. His bed is a worn mat on box springs, there's a sink across the area from him with a leaky faucet and cracked mirror, and the toilet is behind a cloth divider. It's night out, he can tell from the moonlight pouring in through the barred window, and the street outside is just so quiet he knows there won't be any rescue.

"You awake, kid?" a man calls.

"Who's there?" Dean asks nervously.

"My name's Eric, I'm a surgeon at the hospital nearby," the man answers. "I was abducted last week. We were wondering when the next guy would turn up... didn't know you'd be so damn young. Are you okay? Are you injured?"

"My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton," he mutters. "And it's pounding. What the hell happened?"

"We were approached by a beautiful woman at the bar," a second man scoffs. "We woke up here. Not much more to tell you, other than you're now locked in a poor excuse for a brothel."

"... What!" Dean shouts.

"We're their toys," he comments. "They drug us up, tie us to a bed if need be and use us in whatever way they see fit. There's a bunch of little girls running about here, some of them are brought to the cells and taught how useless men are... it's disturbing. I think we were kidnapped by a cult or something."

A third man hushes them quickly, footfalls in the darkness alerting Dean to someone coming. A door opens and the lights turn on, blinding him for a moment. He blinks aside the spots, glowering at the dark haired woman that stands before him now. She smiles, the look completely evil now that he knows what she is. And though there was a small amount of doubt at the bar, there's nothing but certainty within his mind now. He doesn't know whether to be disgusted or infuriated. To think that they'd have the nerve to use him again after they lost more than one of their number last time.

"Dean Winchester," she states a bit impressed. "I've heard of you, such a potent little stallion. We searched quite a while for you, Dean. Rumors of your offspring traveled all over the different Amazon sects. You're a keeper, that much is certain."

"Gee thanks," he says. "It's always nice to be wanted. I just wish it weren't by poisonous vipers such as yourself."

"So, the rumors were true... you _do_ have a mouth on you."

"I've been told it can do amazing things," he smirks. "Too bad you won't get to know if that's true as well. I don't plan on staying long."

She laughs, a horrid sound filled with venom and mocking. Dean can feel the chill roll off her as though she's a block of ice. A few other women walk in, all of them watching him with hungry eyes. He briefly wonders just how much potential his daughter showed to get this reaction. A couple whisper among themselves, too low for him to tell what they're saying. They're all beautiful, just like the others, with a variety of styles. One has short and spiky raven hair, stripes of different colors within the locks. Her outfit is more Goth, although she carries a superior air about her. He can make out a hospital pass sticking out of her pocket, telling him she's likely to be a nurse of some sort. The one beside her is taller, long blonde curls and designer clothing. Her makeup is perfect and she reminds him of the Victoria Secret models he's seen on television. The last is shorter, but her figure is a perfect hourglass. Her hair is cut in a brunette bob that almost touches her shoulders, a pair of thin glasses upon her nose, and she's in a business suit with a short skirt. A police badge is on a chain around her slender throat, sending a shiver of dread through him.

"What's going on here?" Dean asks. "Why did you kidnap me?"

"Our sisters have had a lot of trouble keeping the men in their lives in line... namely hunters," an older woman states. "After we saw the potential your daughter showed, we realized _some_ gene pools might be better to keep around. We've been abducting men for years in the towns we've visited, keeping them alive and using them until they can't perform anymore. Once they've been over bred, we get rid of them. It works much better than killing a man immediately after having his child."

"I thought that was the initiation."

"It was, but we've found other ways," she says meanly. "Count yourself lucky, you'll be given pleasure beyond your wildest imagination. Every man's dream. And it won't even kill you... yet."

Dean glowers at the woman, noting that one of them is watching him more studiously then lecherously. When she arrived he can't say. She's young with shoulder length blonde hair and large blue eyes. There's something about her that strikes Dean as familiar, yet he can't place his finger on it. They bid him a good night, promising to use him soon, and then they start to leave. Although, not before pulling Eric from his cell. The man thrashes and tries to fight, but they subdue him and drag him off. Only the blonde woman from before stays, keeping guard as she gazes upon Dean in contemplation.

Sam and Castiel walk down the street, searching for any sign of Dean. So far, they haven't found a single woman they could peg as Amazonian. Sam is losing hope and Castiel is so worried he's closed back in on himself. They're in poor shape, both of them know that. The street is deserted, the occasional group of people shuffling about. It's mostly for those attending the raves held within abandoned buildings, that way they're less likely to be kicked out by the cops. Kevin is back at the hotel, searching for any clues that could link the disappearances to a single area.

"Don't worry, we'll find him," Sam says for the umpteenth time.

"You don't sound too convincing,"

"... Let's just keep looking."

They turn the corner and head further, silence reigning between them in the wake of total hopelessness. There's someone walking toward them, a petite woman with shoulder length blonde hair. She doesn't stop, just walks between them. Her actions are odd and Sam takes a closer look at her... she could be considered an Amazon, if only she had the mark they all carry. Sam glances at her wrist, hoping it'll be bare to show it off... it isn't. Cursing silently, he reaches to stop the woman.

Before he can touch her, a car horn blares and he's pulled away from her figure to dodge a drunk driver. When he turns back, the woman is gone. Castiel is just as surprised as him, which tells Sam he wasn't looking at her either. With a growled curse, he slams his foot down on the pavement. That woman could've been their only chance at locating his brother, yet they allowed her to slip from their fingers so easily.

Dean is startled awake by a door slamming, a few women wandering in with trays of food. The other men imprisoned there are wary, but eat the food provided. Dean kicks the tray back the way it came. His defiance is obvious, the woman in charge glowering angrily at her new stallion.

"You would do well to eat," she comments. "We don't want you malnourished."

"I'm insulted," Dean states. "You abduct me for my genetics, but you don't think I'm smart enough to know you've drugged the food? Or at least _suspect_ it? I'm not eating or drinking anything you give me... I'd rather die here in this damn cell."

"You'll be weak enough soon, it won't matter what you want. Your wants and opinions stopped being relevant when I spotted you in that bar, so get used to it."

They leave the food lying outside the cell, the majority of them heading out in a huff. Dean waits for a long while, seating himself on the cot once the door closes. A purse catches his eyes, a cell phone resting within it, and he feels something in his sock. He pulls out the lock-pick in surprise, having forgot he put it there to begin with. He can't risk leaving, as he has no clue how many Amazon are here, but he can get a call out. He quickly lets himself out of the cell and grabs the phone, dialing up Sam.

"Hello?" the taller Winchester asks uncertainly.

"Sam, it's Dean!" Dean whispers harshly. "You're not gonna believe this!"

"You've been kidnapped by the Amazons!" Sam comments. "We've been looking for you all night, but haven't found a single clue!"

"Dude, shut up!" Dean hisses. "I'm in some sort of prison. It looks like it was abandoned or something. I'm not the only one here, either. There are four other guys here. Those crazy bitches are using us for sex slaves!"

Sam is about to say something, but Dean gasps and the phone goes dead. He didn't mean to hang up on his brother, but he has to delete the number from the phone and put it back. Afterward, he rushes to his cell and shuts the door behind him. He no sooner sits on his cot that someone enters the room. They're chatting with one of the other girls, moving over toward the abandoned purse. Dean watches the dark haired woman leave again, calling back a farewell for her pal, and then he locks eyes with the blonde that strikes him with a bit of familiarity.

"Don't worry," she murmurs as she looks through her purse. "You won't be aware of anything, I promise. Unfortunately, help won't be coming soon enough for you, Dean."

He blinks in shock at the woman, unable to decide how to take that. On one hand, he's overjoyed he won't be aware of them pawing all over him. On the other, this woman sounds like she's giving him a borderline threat. She picks up her purse and heads out, sparing only a single glance back at Dean before shutting the door. He lies back on his cot, his hand dropping off the side. After a long moment, he frowns and reaches beneath the bed to feel around. The springs are loose and easily broken off. He glances at the mirror... he could shatter it and use the pieces as a weapon. He can hear the movement from the other prisoners, his determination only growing at the sound. They need saved and he can't wait for Sam to show up. He steels his resolve and stands up, walking toward his mirror. He can barely see his reflection in the dim morning light, it shows resolve... but also fear. He won't let those women win... not this time. He won't go down without a damn good fight.


	4. The Tease that Knew Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a race against time as Sam and Cas search for Dean, the older hunter abducted by a clan of Amazons. All they know at the moment, is that the captives are being kept alive for breeding purposes. That now includes Dean. The older hunter finds himself in the showers, all evidence pointing to a rape he can't remember, with an unlikely ally. Strange new information comes to light upon his rescue, which only adds to Castiel's worries. Dean is forced to tell them what Charlie found out.
> 
> WARNING: Memories of attack at end. If you don't want to read that part, skip the two paragraphs before the last. The story should still be comprehensible if you do. I ended the paragraphs rather well. =)

Sam stares at the phone, his jaw slightly agape. Panic and anxiety spread, it's easy to see, thoughts of his brother getting caught and possibly hurt flooding his mind. Castiel is quiet beside him, worry plain on his face. He doesn't say anything, just gives him the time he needs, but his impatience is hard to miss. A car beeps down the way, passing the street quickly. It's not the drunk driver from before, they just seemed to disappear after the woman. Birds chirp loudly around them, the chill on the morning air sending goosebumps along Sam's skin. The sun is just hitting the horizon, it's pale light not yet exploding with the passion of mid-day though it's already painting the sky in a myriad of colors. Finally, he tucks his phone away and looks into those calming blue eyes.

"It was Dean," he states. "He said he's being held in a jail, that the other men are alive and with him."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"... They're being kept alive to breed with the Amazons," Sam murmurs.

Castiel says nothing, but a strange emotion passes through his eyes. Normally so calm and childlike, now they burn with a fury Sam has never seen on him. He hesitates at the sight of it, uncertain whether or not he should interrupt in case he's the target lashed at. Castiel forces his emotions under control, seeming almost confused as to where the powerful wrath came from. Sure he's been angry at others for harming the hunter before, however this seems so much stronger. The thought of those women taking from him what should never be taken, something that should only be given, it boils his blood.

"... You okay?" Sam wonders.

"I guess I'm more attached to Dean than I thought," the former angel comments. "The thought of those abominations hurting him in such a manner... I just want to kill them all."

"He's your friend, Cas," Sam points out. "It's only natural to want to protect your friends... especially if you don't have many. Before we can kill them, though, we have to _find_ them. I say we head back and see if Kevin's found any abandoned jails around town."

Castiel nods in agreement, the two heading back to the impala they parked a couple streets over. Neither says anything more, both too troubled about Dean to think past getting back to the hotel. Fatigue is weighing upon them, though it's quick to be banished. With the morning sun comes the renewal of hope, the two praying it isn't unfounded. When Sam turns the key and the engine of Dean's baby purrs to life, he thinks back on that strange blonde woman... she seemed so familiar for some reason. He felt a strange pull to her, though he can't remember where he's felt it before. Shaking his head, he backs out of the parking spot and drives off.

They come for Dean at noon, the loss of sleep begging to be taken care of. The sun has been glaringly bright all day, filling his window with the only semblance of time he can garner. The night was long and arduous, a thick layer of paranoia laying about the cells. There was no sleep to be had when the worry of waking chained to a bed set at the back of their minds. The green-eyed hunter is ready for anything when that door clanks open... except a tranquilizer gun.

Granted he manages to dodge the first shot, the lack of room within his small cell doing nothing to dull his hunter instinct. One of the women grabs onto his wrist, another reaching for the second. None of them notice the missing shard of the mirror, which swipes out to slit the throat of the redhead reaching for him... the second dart, however, hits him and his sight goes black.

He wakes groggily in another room, his body bare and wrapped in a sheet. The floor is cold tile against his overheated skin, goosebumps breaking out on said flesh at the chill. It's so quiet, yet there's the sound of soft breathing beneath his slightly labored breaths of panic. The feeling of bile rising in his throat is instantaneous. He can feel the fluids resting around his sex, dried upon his stomach from foreplay he was unconscious for, and he fears any marks left over on his person. He gags at the image of his body covered in hickeys he never consented to. Scratch marks litter his body, his wrists rubbed raw from the rope that bound him to a bed no doubt, and he's never felt so dirty and pained. He groans at the fuzziness in his head, lifting a hand to hold it.

"Are you okay?" a woman asks.

He sucks in a sharp breath and turns to face them, holding the sheet tightly around his body of lithe muscle. It's the blonde woman from before, the one that left her purse behind. She's sitting on a bathroom stool in front of a vanity, her eyes holding a tiny hint of humor behind the more prominent worry. Glancing around, he can make out a locker room and a large showering area just behind him. They must've redesigned the locker room to their liking when they made it their den of sin and sexual torment. Dean tries to scoot away warily, the woman making no move to detain him, and finds himself against a chilly wall within seconds.

"Who are you?" Dean demands. "Where am I now? What happened?"

"You've had enough sex in your life, Dean, I'm sure you know what happened," the blonde remarks with an ironic smirk. "I had them bring you into the bathroom afterward, thought you might like a shower. The others don't get this kindness, but I convinced them all you're special. A consenting hunter is less dangerous than a pissed off one."

"... Why are you doing this?"

"... You should take a shower now," she comments with a wary glance toward the door. "It won't be long before they come to gather you again. You'll be lucky if they take you back to your cell, I heard them talking about using you for a few more hours. I'm hoping they won't, but you seem to be the new favorite. They want to break you, _tame_ you... you're not the type to be tamed, though. You're wild all the way through your core."

"... I'm not showering with you watching me," he glares.

She chuckles, a familiar sound that simply doesn't seem to go with this woman. It's feminine, but there's a tone to it that strikes a cord with Dean. He studies her carefully, wondering if maybe Aphrodite found a new form or something. It's not the same though, this isn't sultry and bubbly as it was in his dream... but humored and filled with a childish carelessness. He's heard that tone before, a long time ago, however he can't remember where. The inability to place it is driving him crazy. The humor in the blonde's eyes tells Dean she knows what he's thinking, that she's enjoying his clueless features.

"... I know you," Dean mutters. "I just can't remember where we've met."

"Was I an enemy then?" she wonders with genuine curiosity.

"I really can't recall, but you seem to be one now."

"Am I? After I gave you that lock-pick, left my phone for you to use, checked on your brother so he'd know they were close? I'm hurt, Dean. Did you really think I'd let these hussies keep a fine young thing like you locked up for themselves? After all, you don't belong to them... you belong to Castiel."

Dean's cheeks flush, his mouth working to argue though it can't find a viable argument. To think she would know so much about him, that she's even catch on to the dream he had. It makes him curious to know if she might've been behind it, yet there's no reason for it. So many questions and assumptions rest on the tip of his tongue, refusing to tumble off to shed light on these past few days. It's infuriating and he wishes a few of those Amazons would burst in so he could kill them just to ease the anger.

The woman snaps her fingers and the shower turns on to Dean's right, his green orbs growing larger at the show of magic. It's so _familiar_... has the same feel to it he's been privy to many times in the past. The woman watches him as he moves closer to the water, her eyes staying on his as he abandons the sheet. The spray is hot and comfortable, relaxing his tense muscles and burning the thin cuts made from too many nails. He cringes at the mess left upon him, the urge to throw up building once more. There's another snap of thin fingers, startling Dean who immediately looks for a threat. Instead, he finds a tall stand beside him filled with soaps and shampoos. Though gratefulness rushes through him, he refuses to show it to the woman that assisted in his rape.

"Thanks," he murmurs.

"Do you remember anything?"

"... I remember killing one of them," Dean comments with a satisfied smirk. "Then everything went black and I woke up here."

She nods, taking it all in quietly. Her eyes never drop below his face, making him comfortable enough to remove his attention from her and wash up. He didn't realize how dirty he felt without being awake for such a treatment, just the thought of them touching him making his skin crawl. He scrubs harder than he's ever scrubbed before, hissing when he starts bleeding. Still it doesn't seem enough.

"Scrubbing off your skin isn't going to make you feel better," she points out. "It's just going to make it easier for you to get an infection, making you weaker and an easier target for your captors."

He stops, frowning at the thought. He needs to keep up his strength for when Sam comes, he knows the other will find him. Until then, however, he needs to put up as much of a fuss as possible. That's something he's always been more than capable of, so he's not worried about falling behind in that plan. With a sigh of relent, Dean sets the cloth aside and washes his hair. The blonde hums to herself, snapping her fingers again to provide a towel. Once Dean is dried up, he reaches for the sheet from before. It's covered in fluids and blood, drawing disgust from him. The strange blonde snaps her fingers and the sheet is spotless.

"That's better," she smiles. "Nice and tidy. I have to admit, laundry is about the only nice and tidy thing I do. I'm more about the chaos."

"... You're not an Amazon, are you?" Dean accuses.

"They certainly __think__ I am," she snorts in humor. "And if you'd like to get away anytime soon, I would suggest you let them __keep__ thinking that."

Another crisp snap and a small tray is on the floor at his feet. Carefully, he sits down and wraps the sheet around his lap to hide his nakedness. On the silver tray is a plate of eggs and a bowl of sliced fruit, a glass of juice joining them. It looks so damn innocent and his rumbling stomach complains of his missed breakfast and dinner before. Green orbs trail between the food and the woman, finally breaking down to devour the lot of it. She doesn't seem like the rest of them, has shown she can be trusted to a point, and he's far too hungry to second guess himself. After he's nearly done, he returns his attention to the blonde that hasn't moved an inch from her seat.

"What reason could you possibly have to pretend?"

"I was told if I waited long enough, you would show up," she offers truthfully. "I missed you, Dean. Life is so dull without my favorite humans screwing everything up! The Winchesters have always made things that much more fun."

Dean opens his mouth to say something else, but the blonde raises a hand to shush him. They're not alone, or they soon won't be. She stands and draws a gun from her purse, setting the green-eyed hunter on edge. The tray and shower supplies suddenly vanish, leaving him back where he started before. The taste in his mouth, however, isn't that of the food he just ate... but more of mint and mouthwash. He frowns at that, wondering what the hell happened and assuming it was the strange woman's magic. When the door opens, three more females walk in. They leer openly at Dean's half naked body, the chiseled muscles and perfect abs.

"Let's go," a raven haired woman smirks. "If you go quietly, we'll take you back to your cell. If not... I have the tranquilizer right here. I'm really hoping your stubbornness wins out, I can't _wait_ to take my turn riding you. I've been told by the others that your dick is quiet impressive."

He shudders in disgust, shocked the thought makes him feel so sick. At any other time before his first run-in with these whores, he would've preened his proverbial peacock feathers at the compliment. He may have even willingly inviting her to warm his bed, or have a romp in a nearby public restroom. Right now all he can think about is the voice in his head screaming for escape... and the smaller one begging Castiel to show up and claim him. The later voice sends a shiver of pleasure through him, one that goes unnoticed by those in the room with him. Although he doesn't want to acknowledge that strange feeling developing between himself and the former angel, right now it seems like a saving grace he'd readily give in to. Especially if it's right here on the floor before these bitches that claim he belongs to them. They need to be taught a lesson, one he wouldn't mind consisting of Castiel bending him over while they watch. He's surprised by this line of thought.

Apparently the blonde woman was right, he belongs to Castiel and any thoughts of sex circle around him now. For a moment, he wonders if that wasn't Aphrodite's plan. He would think she were trying to help him if not for the fact the gods only help themselves. He's shoved forward, a quiet growl leaving his lips at the force behind it, and then he's lead back to his cell. He's left to shiver in nothing but his sheet, the men across from him shaking their heads in unwanted pity.

Sam and Castiel have set up in an abandoned house across the street from the jail, the two gazing out the window to get a feel for the numbers they're up against. The sun is resting on the horizon now, night quickly falling, and the harsh reality that they may be too late to save Dean from their clutches hasn't gone unnoticed. They can see a group of children playing in a yard nearby despite the time, four women watching over them. There are six from what they can see, the four women sporting swollen bellies. Sam prays they aren't carrying Dean's children. As they watch, one of them grips her stomach tightly and falls to her knees. She's gone into labor and the children rush inside at the beckoning of an older woman.

"What's going on?" Castiel wonders.

"That woman's gone into labor," he states. "This is probably the best time to strike, they'll all be preoccupied with the birth."

"... What about the children?"

"... We'll deal with that when... What the hell?"

Down on the street, a van pulls up. It's not the black unmarked van used by the Amazons to kidnap Dean, but one belonging to a man. From the distance they're at, it's difficult to see anything that may help identify him. He parks and walks around to the back of the vehicle, flinging the doors open. A group of four hurry out, armed to the teeth and looking for blood. It's not hard to figure out they're hunters, most likely called on by Garth to deal with a job missed by others. The two are gone in a matter of seconds, worried these hunters won't look before shooting. The last thing they need is for Dean to die when they're only seconds from saving him.

There's a scream as the door is opened, a few women ushering two children in before leaving again. They're twins, fraternal although they seem so alike. They look so much like the last one Dean helped them conceive in their facial features, he sinks to the floor as they watch him. Their green eyes are a mockery of his own, their brown locks down to their shoulders and left to hang loose. They've grown faster than the last he had, though he doesn't know why. They look around two, maybe three, but they speak just as perfectly as the last.

"That's our daddy," the slightly taller one says. "Mommy says he's special, but only as a breeder. She keeps him locked up like a puppy because he's not good for anything else."

Dean glares at the little brat, reminding himself to never have kids again. Their eyes look so dead... though that little bit of light in the depths of the pupil... He stops and stares hard at them. There's a gunshot in the other room, the girls gasping in fear as they back against the iron bars. Dean grabs his lock-pick, uncaring if it's found at the moment, and quickly unlocks his cell. He pulls the little girls into the cell, hiding them behind the bed without thought. Even monsters like this deserve a chance to choose the right path in life. That light in their eyes is getting brighter, looking like Castiel when he spread his wings against Crowley. It bothers Dean, like there's something wrong and he can't stop it from hurting them.

The door is thrown open and someone falls through it, screaming in shock and pain as a bullet tears through their chest from behind. A sick satisfaction fills him at the sight, the other thankful that these Amazons are still mortal for all their supernatural strength and breeding habits. She falls to the floor, knocking over a table and sliding over to one of the cells. A tall man steps in, gangly in height, and Dean knows who it is without seeing his face... Garth.

"Dean!" he calls out. "You here?"

"Yes, Garth, I'm right here," he sighs. "I never thought I'd _ever_ say this, but man am I glad to see you! Are my clothes somewhere over there?"

"... Why are you naked?"

"Dude, I don't want to talk about it! Just find me some damn clothes!" the older hunter shouts.

Garth shrugs and starts to turn, yet catches sight of the two little girls hiding in the cell. Dean unconsciously places himself between them and him, an anxious frown on his lips. The gangly male sighs and walks off, letting the green-eyed hunter let himself out again. Dean pulls the little girls toward him, checking them over for injury. He brushes some dirt off one of their frilly dresses, patting the others hair affectionately.

"Don't worry," Dean says quietly. "I won't let them hurt you, okay?"

"Where's mommy?" the taller one asks. "Mommy won't be happy you're out of the cage."

"Mommy isn't coming back," Dean states in an attempt at comfort. "You two are going to be raised by me now... I guess."

They're quiet at that, but it's clear in their eyes they aren't happy about it. Dean frowns deeper at the sight of the light growing in strength. The two are shivering, though not from the cold, and he can't seem to figure out what's wrong with them. He draws them into a hug they allow reluctantly, the hunter setting his cheek against each of their foreheads. They're feverish and a light sheen of sweat clings to their flushed faces.

"You two have a fever," he murmurs.

Before he can say much more, Garth returns with his clothes. There's a wary and almost haunted look in his eyes as he hands the pile of cloth to his friend, those eyes lingering on the girls that look too much like Dean for his liking. Dean is wary leaving them in Garth's company while he dresses, telling them to keep their back to him until he says it's okay. Their compliance is once again reluctant, those green orbs trailing after the other hunters as they release the rest of the captives. All of them averting their eyes from the cell the once captive hunter retreated to, it's out of both respect and pity. Garth watches the children with more wariness than interest, his eyes sweeping Dean carefully. He's shocked to see the abuse his friend was put through, knowing he wasn't there forty-eight hours. There are so many tracks from nails digging deeper than need be, bruises from thrown punches and slaps, and hickeys to remind him of his violation for days after. He was curious when he saw him half naked, even more so at the bruising on the side of his face and the split lip, yet now he wishes nothing but the other's innocence returned. Not that he was very innocent to begin with, but for sex to be taken in such a manner gives the same affect in his opinion.

"How did you know to look here?" Dean asks curiously as he pulls up his pants.

"We got a call," he waves off. "Some woman that said she was an Amazon and didn't feel comfortable with her sisters kidnapping a hunter named Dean Winchester. I don't blame her, you're more than a handful on a _bad_ day. I gathered a group and headed straight here... we were only a couple towns over. Made the drive in a couple hours."

Dean pulls his shirt on, avoiding eye contact with the younger hunter. He grabs his lock-pick and checks on the state of the other four caged there, his daughters watching in disapproval the whole time. Thankfully, the others have long since been moved from the room. Sam and Castiel burst through the door in a rush, eyes scanning the room with an air of panic. The second they see Dean, they have him sandwiched between them in a bear hug. It's not normal and he's caught off guard, the touch of Castiel's body against his sending so much comfort and safety through him he can't help but relax. Unfortunately, he can't say the same about his injuries. He holds back the hiss of pain that wants to force itself from his lips, closing his eyes against it tightly. The little girls grip their wrists and pull them away from Dean, getting between him and them with angry little frowns.

"... Dean?" Sam inquires. "Who are they?"

"I don't know their names," he sighs tiredly. "But they're mine."

"Oh, Dean... I'm so sorry," Sam comments. "I wish we would've gotten here sooner, but... are... are they okay? They don't look so good."

"I think they're sick, but I don't know what's wrong with them. We should get them to a hospital."

Castiel kneels before the two, watching that light completely take over their green eyes. It pours from their mouths, burning out all the darkness. It seems like a smiting to him, yet he doesn't have the heart to tell Dean in front of the girls. He glances over at the male in question, his frown deepening slightly. The air is warming, cracking with energy like static electricity. He backs away a bit, his body tense and ready to act. The two children scream and cry, Dean's face twisting in worry and shock. He reaches for them, yet Castiel blocks him quickly. It's the action his body was waiting to perform. So much anxiety and panic fills the air around the hunter, his face easily locked to Castiel's chest by a strong hand at the back of his head. The screams are filled with agony that strikes his heart mercilessly.

"It's an angel's light," Castiel states. "Amazons never bred with angels because their offspring were destroyed by their light. That's what's happening here. There's nothing you can do for them. I'm sorry, Dean."

It doesn't last long, the two bursting into a flash of light before the room dims... they're gone. Not a trace of them is left over. Dean starts to sink to the floor, his face a mess of confusion and a short circuit... like the very last thing he thought was real just snapped and his brain fried with the loss. Castiel holds him up, wrapping his arms around him firmly to keep him on his feet. When his despair makes his body go completely lax, the former angel is forced to sit on the floor with him practically in his lap. The action sends a weariness through the hunter, his mind whispering promises of protection if only he'll allow the other in. He wants that more than anything, so tired of giving everything and getting so little in return. His pride, however, would never allow him to place his heart on the chopping block like that. Especially when the one holding the ax is an angel that isn't known for his genius on human emotions.

"That was _crazy_!" Garth comments. "But I thought they were _Dean's_ kids. How could they die from an angel's light if their dad is human?"

"That's a good question," Castiel hums in thought. "I can think of only one explanation, but it's impossible... and quite forbidden. You'll have to give me time to think about it, perhaps I can come up with something."

"Or you can just ask me," a light voice filled with humor offers. "After all... I _am_ older than dear little Cas and I know so much more than he does."

All eyes are on the blonde woman from before, her smirk playful and arrogant while keeping a perpetual humor to it. Sam grips his demon blade tighter, shifting his stance in case he has to attack last minute. Her words hang in the air, unchallenged and echoic. The light seems to bend toward her, lighting her hair like a halo. Castiel stands as he always does, loose and seemingly unprepared. Though if she were to attack him, he'd have no problems taking her down. He may not be an angel anymore, but his training still rests in his mind... he's a warrior through and through.

"You," Sam murmurs. "I saw you on the street."

"Yes, you did," she grins. "I wanted you to know you were close. I would've taken you straight there, but that would've done you very little. Good thing I called Garth beforehand."

"You turned in your own sisters," Garth states. "Why?"

"I like Dean," she shrugs. "He's fun to have around. He can't be any fun if he's locked up in a twisted brothel."

Dean flinches at that, averting his gaze when the others glance toward him. Shame is quick to take hold, the tears that want to take shape pushed down vehemently. His male pride has already taken too much of a hit, it can't take much more abuse. The arms still holding him are spreading a warmth throughout him he's never felt before, the male pride part of him demanding he get away from it. He stands and scolds himself for acting like a damsel in distress. He doesn't want to deal with any of this right now, he just wants to go home and bathe until he sheds his skin. Without another word, he brushes past his brother and heads outside. Castiel accompanies him, unwilling to let him out of his sight for the moment.

The night is cool, the breeze sending a shiver along the hunter. Moonlight bathes the street in a pale glow, the sound of crickets the only thing filling the area. Before he can say anything about the chill, something is draped over his shoulders. He glances at the former angel in surprise, finding his tan trench coat gone. It's the cloth now keeping him warm, a firm hand still keeping content with his shoulder in an attempt to keep him calm. He doesn't have to thank the other, words were never a huge need between them, so he just sighs and wraps the jacket closer around him.

"Are you okay?" Castiel wonders quietly.

"... I'll be fine."

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you were okay, not if you will be," he frowns. "You need to start talking to me, Dean. What happened to those children isn't normal. Whatever you've been hiding from us has gotten out of hand, that was from that coin. I don't care if you think I'm wrong, Dean. I'm not. Whatever happened to you in that dream affected you out here and we need to know what it was!"

"Why!" Dean shouts. "Why do you need to know so damn bad? It's not your problem, Cas, it's mine!"

"Stop it! Stop trying to carry all your problems alone! I tried that once, remember? It left you dealing with Leviathans and eventually sent us both to Purgatory! So just stop!"

Dean backs away a step, shocked at the outburst. Castiel doesn't yell, not like this. It both unnerves him and sets his hormones ablaze. There's just something about the pure dominance within that husky tone, something that melts Dean like a woman beneath the eye of her lover. It sends shivers of pleasure through him, yet that doesn't take away from the hint of fear at the sudden snap. Castiel doesn't get so angry he looks as though he's an angel going to war, not since he rebelled and Dean was set to give in to Michael. Even then it scared him, the amount of wrath this mild-mannered man is capable of. At the look in green eyes, Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

"I'm sorry," he comments. "I'm just... at my last nerve. You promised to tell us if anything happened, well something happened and you've yet to say anything more than 'I'll be fine'. We're _worried_ about you, Dean. Please stop being so inconsiderate."

"... I'll talk back at the bunker," he gets out quietly. "I just... I don't want to talk right now."

Castiel nods, satisfied for the moment, and turns to watch Sam exit with Garth. The rest of the lanky man's team is already in the van, any injuries from the hunt and those held captive are dressed already. Those that joined him walking on eggshells around the hunter known to have stopped the apocalypse. To see such a fine example of their profession fall so hard, it's an eye opening situation that none of them know how to handle. Garth and Sam look Dean over, curious to see the trench coat on him instead of it's owner. Castiel offers no explanations, so they don't ask. With a hug for them each Garth joins his team and heads off to return the captives, but not until after getting promises of calls should they need anything.

The impala is quiet the whole ride back to the hotel. Sam parks only long enough for them to pack up and grab Kevin, the prophecy more than happy to get back home. He's surprised to see just how much he dislikes being social now, like the humans around him just seem to get worse with each visit. Then again, when he's so paranoid he'll come across one of Crowley's men it's only to be expected. By the time they stopped in the parking lot, he had already packed away any maps or papers used in the search. Even his laptop was carefully set in its bag, awaiting its ride home. When he first sees Dean, the only hint to his attack is a horrible bruise on his cheek. A subtle shift of discomfort, however, reveals a dark hickey next to a gouge line. Though he's dying to ask about it, he knows better than to start the conversation... that's something Dean needs to do, or he'll automatically close himself off. Instead, he helps pack everything into the car.

The house is just as quiet as the car, like a grave, and Sam has to make a grab for Dean before he rushes to his room. He sighs in relent, allowing himself to be guided to the library. As much as he loves being home, a part of him wishes he had gotten away and just kept running. This isn't something he ever thought he would need to deal with, it simply never occurred to him that he would be attacked in such a manner. The silence is beginning to get stifling, any subtle noises seeming so much louder as time ticks away. Things have gotten serious, Dean needs to tell them what he knows now. Of course, he'll leave out as much as possible... that's only to be expected.

"Talk. Now," Sam demands after shoving Dean onto a couch.

"... After the job in town, Charlie sent me an email. I told her what happened and she looked into the coin. She sent me a couple links," Dean admits a bit downtrodden. "The winged man is for Morpheus and the dove... is for Aphrodite."

"What!" Sam shouts.

"I know, all right? I would've gone back to try and find her, but I couldn't only get you to allow the next town.  And all I found was a raven haired Amazon, okay?" he snaps. "Whatever happened to me in that dream, _she_ made happen! I just want it to go away!"

"And this Amazon knew all this? Why would she even _think_ she knows you? The way she acted, the way she talked, it was as if we'd known her for years," Sam scoffs. "She's pretty knowledgeable for an Amazon..."

"She's not an Amazon," Dean mutters bitterly. "And she's the only reason I don't recall anything that happened. It's like she blocked my mind the whole time. I remember attacking them, getting knocked out, and then waking up after it was all over."

"What else happened?" Castiel asks.

"Nothing else, okay? We just have to find Aphrodite and make her reverse whatever the hell she did to me!" Dean frowns. "That's it, nothing more. Now... Kevin, did you find a way to summon her in those books you've been browsing?"

The prophet shakes his head tiredly, it's obvious they're all in need of a good night's sleep. With a slight reluctance, the four head to bed for a much needed rest. Dean lies awake for a long time, his eyes unwilling to close for some reason. His mind, strangely, isn't caught up in what those women did... but what he wished would've happened in his dream. He's never taken to any of his flings as quickly as the man he calls his friend. It's scary and he doesn't appreciate the fear settled in his belly. Fear he knows is born of change and his inability to handle it. He wants things to change between him and the former angel just as much as he doesn't; the struggle is tearing him apart. It isn't until his green orbs finally succumb to slumber that he realizes why they were so unwilling to close. In his wakefulness he thinks of Castiel, but in his sleep... his thoughts manifest in a completely different way.

In his dreams, he can hear the sadistic laughter. His body is being dragged through a cold hallway, tossed upon a mattress carelessly. It smells of sex and sweat with a hint of vomit and piss, not exactly scents that invoke promise. He can feel his clothes being pulled off, can hear the fabric ripping beneath the rough action, and then he's being stretched out. Wrists are bound too tightly to a headboard, ankles to the foot board, and he feels sick with vulnerability and shame. The pain laces his body even in sleep when they drag nails along his skin harshly, his screams and whimpers only making him sicker.

A needle is used in his neck, the injection rushing heat through his body as he becomes aroused unwillingly. They take turns riding him, their moans gagging him. Each one inflicts as much pain to him as possible without harming him too badly, they don't want to injure their new prized stallion. Everything is black, yet without his sight... it just makes it that much worse. There's a ray of light in the darkness, that blonde woman... her image is burned behind his eyelids. Her figure morphs around her eyes, which change color slowly. When Dean finally sees her new form, he can't help but scream in a mixture of fear, frustration, and helplessness.

He's shaken awake by Castiel, who's room is right next to his. Dean blindly lashes out, though the other manages to restrain his hands. He draws him close to his chest, running a hand through his hair as he hushes him. Dean, still mostly asleep, clings to the safety of his former angel's presence. Silently, Castiel shifts him so he can sit on the bed. He's never really had to comfort anyone, however he's seen it a lot throughout his years. He realizes this is how a mother comforts her child after a nightmare, but there's been little need to comfort adults from such things. He slowly rocks Dean in his arms, holding him so close he's glad he doesn't have his angelic power anymore... if he had, he's almost positive he would crush the hunter. He sighs and tucks Dean's head beneath his chin, closing his eyes for only a moment. He'll stay awake and watch over Dean until he stirs.


	5. Winchester Brand Therapy... Never Works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is taking his rape as well as he can, but it still burns deep within his psyche. Though Cas tries to help heal him, it's Sam that takes the lead on that. He mends his brother the only way he knows how... Winchester Brand Therapy! They go on a road trip to leave their problems behind... but this time the problems follow them. And get worse. The strange coin finds It's way to Sam, affecting his dreams with an unexpected guest star. Afterward, the hunters find Dean's Amazonian ally in the café next door and her true identity is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the strange sentence structure in the last chapter, I forgot I made changes in it on the post I placed on FF ^^; I hope you're all enjoying it anyway. Thank you for the reviews I've had so far, I really appreciate them =)

When Dean wakes, he's shocked to find himself cradled in Castiel's arms. The shorter male is propped up against the headboard, his head hanging as he sleeps. It looks like an extremely uncomfortable position and his neck is sure to hurt when he wakes. Careful not to wake him, Dean lays him on the bed and pulls the blankets over him. Once he's sure Castiel is more comfortable, Dean grabs a change of clothes and retreats from the room. He heads to the showers, making certain the others haven't stirred yet, and turns on the hot water. He strips down and sits beneath the spray, curling up and sighing as the scalding liquid burns away the nightmares of his capture. It burns, the heat from the liquid, yet he can't bring himself to care. Somewhere deep down lies the thought that it's deserved, that he should've fought harder and it never would've happened. With that train of thought, he feels he needs to be punished so he won't let it happen a second time. And those poor girls, they had a chance at a better life. Maybe not a normal one, but a better one. He just stood there and watched them suffer... his little girls died inches from his grasp and he just watched. He cries silently for them, his tears mixing with the spray. This is the only chance he'll get to voice his grief in private; it wouldn't do to allow his brother or the others to notice it. He's supposed to be the strong one, the one that always finds a way out... he feels anything but the determined hunter he should be at the moment.

He doesn't realize how long he's been sitting beneath the hot water, which has gone a bit lukewarm. His tears have passed, leaving him with lingering sorrow that's slowly being buried with all his other emotions. It's how he copes and that will never change. He's lost in thought when Castiel enters the large showering room, each shower having it's own cubicle. He can't see the sulking hunter, yet there's only one shower turned on and that's enough of a clue for him. The brunette stops to sit against the outside wall of Dean's shower. At first, words are lost. There just doesn't seem to be anything to say at the moment to ease the burden of disgrace and anger and self-loathing within the hunter. Instead he listens for a long while, yet hears nothing but Dean's even breathing. For a moment, he thinks the other has fallen asleep.

"Dean?"

"Holy shit!" Dean gasps out. "What the hell, Cas! You scared me, damn it!"

"I didn't mean to," he says by way of apology. "I thought you were asleep."

"... What do you want, Cas?" Dean sighs in exasperation.

"I know you said you didn't remember what happened, but it's pretty obvious from your nightmares that you do," he states. "I just want you to know that I'm here if you need to talk. You shouldn't be ashamed of what happened, Dean. You're not the only one that's ever gone through something like that. Sometimes talking helps."

Dean frowns and lays his head back to rest against the shower wall. It's cold beneath his skin despite the warmth from the water. He sighs glancing at his shoulder, the thin golden lines barely visible in the dim lighting. It's a small relief, considering the man on the other side of the cubicle doesn't yet know the meaning of the word privacy. The thought increases his heart rate, his arousal stirring without his consent. For a brief second there's a flashback to the nightmare, yet it doesn't last long... this is an arousal he's happy to indulge in. The very realization has him biting his tongue against going off on the former angel, a thousand colorful expletives at the ready. Dean reaches to turn off the water, it's gone cold anyway, and then stretches a hand out to locate the towel he threw onto the floor. Castiel hands it to him, his fingers brushing Dean's. The barest of contact makes it feels as though electricity travels the length of the hunter's nervous system. A shiver flows along his spine, the green-eyed male sucking in a sharp breath of air before pulling away.

Castiel waits for him, sitting ever patiently on the cool floor. When Dean is dried and dressed, he steps over to gaze upon the brown haired man. He's concerned and it shows. Dean never likes seeing that on Castiel's face, it always makes him feel guilty for lying to the other. Right now, he feels guilty for pushing him away. That safety and comfort he felt within the other's embrace... he wants that. Dean would love to just drop to the floor right now and curl up in Castiel's arms, but that damn pride of his responds by scolding. The longer this goes on, the affects of his dream, the more he feels like a desperate woman in love with a man she can never have. He's caught in a bad soap opera and he wants it to end just as much as he wants Castiel to pin him to the nearest flat surface.

"I don't need to talk," he remarks almost snappishly. "Nightmares are just that... bad dreams. Everyone has them, it doesn't mean they're broken. Leave me alone."

He forces himself not to look into those blue eyes, he knows Castiel will be able to tell he's lying. That's not the only reason, though... he simply can't take the hurt he knows is within their depths. He can't stay here, the inactivity will give him time to think and that'll leave him submerged in vague memories of his capture. He heads upstairs and packs a bag, slipping out of the safe-house quietly. Sam watches him go, yet this time doesn't stop him. He can only imagine what's going through his older brother's head; Dean, who's never felt helpless since getting pulled from Hell. The same man that's triumphed over so many different types of evil... only to be used by them as a breeding tool. The tall Winchester shakes his head, the pity he feels for his brother quickly squashed without a second thought. Dean doesn't want people to pity him.

The morning is cool and the smell of rain hangs in the air like a blanket, a soft fog lying about the world peacefully. Dew clings to his pant legs and boots as he cuts through the grass, the black car he calls his baby waiting for him patiently. Dean turns the impala on and shifts it into drive, his head jerking to the side when the passenger door is yanked open and Sam tosses his bag in the backseat. Without a word, the younger brother slides into the passenger seat and shuts the door.

"... What are you..?"

"Drive," Sam comments. "We started this together and we'll end it together, no excuses. You don't have to talk about what happened, you don't have to cry your eyes out because I ask you to, just drive. We've been down this road many times these past years, we know how it works by now. Whatever happens, no matter how screwed up or twisted, we're in it together."

"... What about Castiel and Kevin?"

"I told them you needed time off for the Winchester brand therapy. They didn't ask anything more, just made me promise to check in often."

Dean smirks a bit at that, stepping on the gas and listening to the gravel crunch beneath his baby's tires. The motor sounds finely tuned, recently checked over by the shorter hunter for something to keep him occupied. He'll likely mess around with it again soon, if only to fully absorb his mind in something that isn't his nightmares or erotic dreams. Sam sits back in his seat, rummaging around in the back for a book. When he pulls it out, he opens it in his lap and the car is filled with familiar silence. It's companionable and something Dean's always found comfort in. He sighs in content and loosens his grip on the steering wheel. With a flick of his fingers, the radio starts blaring his favorite songs that serve to still his nerves.

Their first stop is a roadside hotel. It's miles from the safe-house, surrounded by trees on three sides and a state route in front. The people that own it seem like good people, all smiles and warm greetings for the tired travelers. There's a cafe just next door, which they grab dinner at, and a gas station to fill up on the other side. Dean is asleep the minute his head hits the pillow, his head pounding from watching the road for so long. Sam takes a shower and changes into sleeping pants, glancing at his fully clothed brother with a humored smirk. He pulls out his cell phone as he sits on the edge of his bed.

"Hey, Cas, it's Sam," he says quietly. "We stopped at a hotel for the night, Dean's already asleep. Tell Kevin we'll be looking for a small job in the next town, just something to get his mind off of things."

"Is he having nightmares?" the former angel asks. "How bad are they?"

"Nothing yet," he offers. "Don't worry, I'll tell you if they start up. I have to go now, though, I don't want to wake him up. Talk to you later."

"Okay, goodbye."

They hang up and Sam lies down, closing his eyes with a tired yawn. A slight smile touches his lips at the former angel's protectiveness where Dean is concerned, something he's seen multiple times from both parties in the past. It isn't difficult to see how close they are. He hums to himself, listening to the still night outside their room. He's already locked up, made sure salt was lain down across every entrance just in case, and drew a devil's trap in front of each door and window. They're protected against everything he could think of, their only concern at the moment is getting some sleep.

Sam is woken by a loud bang, his eyes popping open in surprise. He immediately turns to check on Dean, finding him missing. Panic blasts through him like a waterfall of ice water, his blue orbs searching frantically for his brother. There's a note on the bed beside him, resting on the pillow like a chocolate. He reaches over and plucks it up, scanning it quickly and sighing in relief. Dean went to get breakfast at the cafe. Relief floods him as he drops back onto his bed. His head falls back to his pillow, a hand resting on his forehead. It isn't often he feels such a horrid anxiety so suddenly, yet he's positive it's been reserved for Dean alone. Such a sudden relief leaves him exhausted and in need of a nap. There's no time for it though, as there's a knock on the door and he's positive Dean locked himself out... which wouldn't be the first time, nor the last.

"Hang on, I'm coming," he sighs. "You know, I should just let you sit on the doorstep for a few hours. Teach you to carry your damn key with you instead of..."

He throws the door open, stopping mid-sentence at the sight of someone he thought lost to them forever. A mess of brown hair meets his gaze, the head tilting up until eyes a shade of brown so soft it seems gold locks with blue. He has a strong chin and a cocky smirk, an endless humor in those orbs as they watch the emotions play across Sam's face, and he stands at 5' 8".

"Been awhile since I saw shock like that," he chuckles.

"G-Gabriel," Sam whispers. "How did you... what are you... what happened...?"

"Awe, I'm touched," the shorter male grins wide. "You're speechless! You must've _seriously_ missed me to be rendered speechless at the _sight_ of me! How sweet, I missed you, too! After all, like I said before, life is so dull without my favorite humans screwing everything up!"

Sam takes only a moment to gather himself, rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Gabriel tightly. He doesn't know where this overwhelming relief stems from, doesn't know why he's feeling as though his life has been pieced back together, but he knows he's never been happier to see someone rise from the afterlife... except maybe Dean, but that's a totally different feeling. Gabriel hugs him back, moving them to music only he can hear. Sam resists the urge to laugh at the other, missing his strange sense of humor. He can't explain what it is that made him do it, maybe the emptiness he never knew he felt before seeing the trickster again, but Sam pulls him back just enough to lock their lips. Gabriel doesn't seem surprised, just weaves his fingers in Sam's shaggy hair and moves them to the bed. He pulls the Winchester down over him, sliding a hand up beneath his shirt and along his firm abs.

"What am I doing?" Sam gasps out breathlessly.

"I think you're old enough to know that," Gabriel chuckles. "But if I seriously need to explain... I've always been more of a man of action than words."

He flips them over, straddling Sam's hips with an almost playfully sinister smirk. The smell of roses fills the room, an odd scent he would never associate with the trickster leaning over him. He runs his nails along Sam's skin, nipping up his neck before capturing his lips again. Sam gasps and he slips his tongue in, mapping out the hunter's mouth. It tastes like the mint from his mouthwash, and something that's completely Sam. The trickster moans at the mix and turns the kiss rough. Sam grips Gabriel's hair a bit tightly, meeting him just as harshly. He bites on the trickster's bottom lip, humming at the feeling rushing through him. It's familiar, though the last time he felt it he learned it was an addiction. This is how he felt with Ruby, however it feels so much deeper than what they had. Sam groans and his head falls back to the pillow when Gabriel grinds their hips together, the other grasping a strong shoulder with one hand while the other is splayed over Sam's chest.

"You're a very domineering male for someone so softhearted," Gabriel murmurs, tracing random shapes on Sam's shoulder thoughtfully. "Though... Dean is a _much_ better kisser."

Sam's mind is lethargic, so the comment doesn't sink in before the burning starts. His eyes go wide as he stares into Gabriel's, the satisfaction at his pain sending fear and uncertainty through him. This isn't the man that saved them, that gave his life to keep Lucifer from capturing them. Even as he harms the hunter beneath him, he continues to grind their erections together. It tears the taller male in two, half of him succumbing to pain and the other to pleasure. Finally the pain wins out. Sam screams as the suffering blossoms into raw agony, his vision darkening before he falls unconscious.

Dean tries to wake Sam eagerly, shouting his name over his little brother's screaming. The yells are what stirred him from his sleep, sudden and fast like the crack of a gunshot. Still half asleep, he stumbles from his bed, tripping over the blankets tangled around his legs and hitting the floor. Shaking off the pain from his jarred wrist, he makes his way over to his brother's bed. Panic rises as hands grip Sam's shoulders firmly, shaking him with a hint of desperation and fear. Sam jerks awake, almost smacking Dean as he flails. The dark haired hunter dodges the blow, keeping one hand on his sibling's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "You were screaming like someone was killing you."

"I... I was... were's..?"

"You were having a nightmare, Sammy."

"I was in the hotel room," he recalls in a murmur. "You were gone, left to get breakfast... there was a knock at the door and... and _Gabriel_ was there. I was so relieve to see he was okay, it was like..."

"Like it wasn't even your real feeling, like it came out of nowhere and smacked you in the face," Dean frowns. "Did he get aggressive with you? Throw you onto a bed or something?"

"I kissed him," Sam says a bit confused. "He said... you were a better kisser. And then there was so much pain in my shoulder... like he was burning my skin off..."

Dean shifts the blanket and looks at his brother's shoulder. His mark is on the left, but he can't see any of the golden lines shimmering on Sam's. After a short thought, he moves to look at the right one... there they are, the thin golden strands etched into his skin. Sam follows his gaze, shock registering on his features at the sight. The skin is angry and red, just like Dean's was after his dream, and the lines are welts upon his skin. Dean knows they'll eventually shrink, lying evenly with his flesh as though nothing happened, but for now it's a sign of his meeting with Aphrodite. Sam lifts his pillow, the coin from before sitting harmlessly beneath. The winged demon stares back at him mockingly, that grin upon its face seeming to laugh at him.

"How did _that_ get there?" he asks. "I thought it vanished."

"It did... we were followed."

They watch as the coin starts glowing, soft tinkling laughter echoing in the room before it disappears again. It doesn't even wait for privacy, jeeringly vanishing before their eyes. Dean and Sam gaze at one another, the severity of this situation falling upon them like a hammer. The older hunter sits on his brother's bedside, the two at a loss for their next step. The whole room seems to grow darker after that. Dreariness pours over them as the rain breaks through the clouds outside.

Breakfast is a silent ordeal, the two still mulling over the encounter from last night. Neither knows whether they should tell Castiel and Kevin or not, they have no clue what Aphrodite's game is, and worse yet... the blonde Amazon from before is sitting across the room from them. She doesn't seem to notice the hunters, humming to herself as she awaits her order. It's a nice enough diner with the typical black and white tiled floors. The tables are white and circular, the chairs and booths in black leather, and the counter is covered in display cases filled with deserts. They half expect to see someone on roller skates with a poodle skirt. A waitress strides over to the blonde Amazon, a plate of pancakes and fruit on her tray with a glass of chocolate milk. Dean raises a brow and glances at Sam. The woman thanks her waitress and reaches for the syrup, which she drowns her pancakes in once the brunette is gone.

"Is it just me... or does that seem awfully familiar?" Dean frowns.

"What?"

"That scene... come on, don't tell me you forgot!"

"Like I could forget the worst and most stressful repeating day in my life!" Sam bristles. "You only died in front of me like a _million_ times!"

Dean sends Sam a pointed look, the other gasping in realization. During the lesson the taller was given on Dean dying and going to Hell, he had to locate the trickster from his dreams. Unfortunately, said male was disguised as another man and could only be found by the mundane clue of the breakfast he ate each repeat of the day... pancakes drowned in syrup. The two finish their meal and head toward the blonde woman, sitting down at her table without being invited. Her blue eyes take them in curiously, a hint of humor in their depths.

"Well, well. If it isn't my favorite humans," she chuckles. "What can I do for you?"

"We'd like to ask you a few questions," Dean comments conversationally. "Our first one would be... how the hell did you survive Lucifer killing you?"

"... I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out," she laughs joyfully. "I dropped so many hints, I was disappointed when you didn't pick them up."

She looks around her quickly, smirking when her form melts away to leave the brunette archangel they've been tormented by in the past. His golden eyes are twinkling in mirth, his grin wide and impish. Dean resists the urge to throw something at him, yet he notes that Sam is more quiet than usual. There's tension in his figure, his hand twitching on the table before him, and the older hunter knows exactly what the problem is... he's feeling emotions for the trickster.

"Seriously, Sammy?" Dean hisses. " _Gabriel_? This is the same guy that drove you to near insanity by killing me before your eyes repeatedly! The same asshole that locked us in a never-ending television show for his own amusement!"

"Actually, both of those were to teach you guys a lesson," Gabriel offers lightly. "But they __were__ a little harsh. Then again, you two rarely ever learn unless it's harsh. And look what happened! Sam was able to keep on living without Dean and you both managed to stop the apocalypse! See? I helped!"

Sam immediately pulls the knife away from Dean's reach. Gabriel's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, the green-eyed hunter seething at the thought of their past meetings. Their first meeting, he had to admit he liked the other. His sense of humor was so close to Dean's it was hard not to, but after that everything went downhill. Encounters meant to be lessons to help out turned into torment for the brothers, which led to mistrust and an eagerness to drive a stake through the trickster. It wasn't until he risked his life to save them from a meeting of the other gods, standing up to Lucifer afterward only to be killed, that their relationship had settled at a more content level. To be friends with Loki is to be friends with chaos, it's something the two just have to get used to.

"You two seem off," Gabriel ventures. "Like you've been hit with Cupid's arrow or something... is that the case? Who's the lucky lady? Can I plan the wedding, I'm so good at planning huge events!"

"It was Aphrodite," Sam sighs. "She's screwing with us and we don't know why."

"... Did Dean refuse to sleep with her?"

"Why is it automatically __my__ fault!" Dean snaps a bit affronted. "We didn't even come across her, okay? All I know is, we went there to investigate a few mysterious deaths! Their lovers all had the same coin on a necklace before they ganked them, which I found in the park. That's it, no ungodly hot chick involved."

Though he wants to comment on that, Gabriel keeps his mouth shut. He was there when Dean was so callously raped by the Amazons, he knows what he's talking about. He frowns, glancing away from the hunters he's grown to call friends. It isn't often an angel has the luck to call someone their friend and actually mean it. Within their family is betrayal and control, something he never took well to and he knows Castiel didn't either. That's why he ran off and his baby brother rebelled. No one has ever had their backs quite like the Winchesters.

The brothers glance around nervously, afraid the patrons of the diner might overhear them. Speaking of spells and goddesses isn't exactly a normal conversation. Thankfully, everyone is far enough away they'd have to eavesdrop to hear anything. Their own conversations seem enthralling enough to them, soft and muffled as they try creating a bubble of privacy at their tables. It's a good enough reassurance to continue.

"So," Sam comments with a dry mouth. "How __did__ you survive?"

"I didn't. I woke up a few weeks ago in Aphrodite's bedroom," he shrugs. "She gave me a letter and said the one that brought me back left instructions in it. I read it, found the Amazons, and stayed with them until Dean showed up."

"You don't know who brought you back, but you blindly follow their letter without thought," Dean comments blandly. "Wow. Now I know where Cas gets it."

"I didn't say I didn't know!" Gabriel frowns. "I recognized the signature at the bottom of the letter. Trust me, they're someone you just _don't_ say no to."

"Why?"

"Because, even Lucifer and God answer to them. They're the unknown deity, sometimes called 'Mother Nature' or 'the balance of life'. Humans don't even really believe they exist anymore, so no hunters have ever looked for them... not that they'd ever _find_ them. They're the only ones of their kind. The balance has been tipped too far, so they're moving pieces to fix it. They never deal with it personally, they can't do that... it's a rule between them. I didn't understand what the hell the letter meant by that, but I realized fast enough when I tried to get to Heaven and was blocked. I have no angelic power anymore..."

"You used it at the jail," Dean protests.

"No, I used my __trickster__ power there. You might as well call me Loki, because that's all I am."

The three fall silent, a look of misery crossing Gabriel's features. He may not have liked his heavenly family, he may have run away to join another, but he was still very attached to them. It's shocking to think he's no longer an angel, as those that fell still had access to their abilities... they just lost their wings. Dean decides to take pity on him, explaining everything that's happened since he was killed. Sam watches quietly as the emotions dance through Gabriel, his eyes dazed and drooping... he feels like a teenage girl trapped in some serious puppy love.

"I can't believe it," Gabriel gasps. "I just... wow. Metatron seriously cast everyone out?"

"Yep," Dean nods. "Every last angel... and he stole Castiel's Grace to finish the spell. Cas is back at the safe-house with Kevin, he's been hunting with us. Took us forever to get him out of his shell."

"How's he holding up?"

"He was pretty good, up until Dean started going off on him like a chick on PMS," Sam grumbles. "I don't know what happened, but after Aphrodite screwed with his head he's been at Castiel's throat."

"Let me guess, he had an extremely intimate dream about him and now he can't get it out of his head," the trickster comments with a mischievous grin. "I can only guess by your nervous and fidgety behavior that you had a similar dream about me."

Sam blushes hotly, glowering to the side and refusing to answer the question. Gabriel has always seen far too much for their liking. Little do they know that he knows Aphrodite intimately, has been privy to all her tricks. That woman was his childhood crush and one of his first lovers. Their friendship was strong, one that's lasted throughout the centuries. A small smile plays on his lips, his mind playing with the reasons she could possibly have to mess with the infamous Winchesters. No words are spoken after that, the smell of pancakes too strong to be ignored. The hunters allow the other to finish his breakfast, and then they all retreat to the Winchesters' hotel room. Dean's cellphone rings the moment they step through the doorway and he answers it, stepping outside to leave Gabriel with Sam for the moment.

"You won't stop it, you know," Gabriel comments as he takes a seat at the table. "The love spell she placed on you."

"How do you know?"

"I know Aphrodite. She's not like the cupids, she's _the_ _being_ of love... they derived from her. They can mark soul mates, but she doesn't need sigils like that... she can affect the very soul. Whatever she does to someone can't be undone and it follows you through your every lifetime, for all eternity. She affects emotions that already exist."

"... What?" Sam asks, stunned.

"She couldn't nurture love unless you already had a crush of some sort, Sam," he explains. "When Cas pulled Dean from Hell, he created a bond that was deeper than usual. That's why we don't pull souls from Hell frequently. I'll bet you my ability as a trickster she forced that bond to grow into full-blown soul-mates. As for you, we have history and I'd like to think I left a good impression considering I did __die__ for you guys... she must've nurtured __that__ into the love of soul-mates in you."

"But why?"

"It was an order, from the same people that brought me back. You don't ignore their orders... not even the gods of old do that. Whatever's coming is serious, Sam. We need all the help we can get and if they think being together as soul-mates is going to help, I say we put aside our differences and deal with it... because it's not changing. They'll go through every channel they can _possibly_ think of, including wiping out and reconstructing your memory. Trust me, if they do that... there's no way in Heaven or Hell to get those lost memories back. What they do is _permanent_ , that's why they never affect things directly."

Sam sighs and cradles his head in his arms atop the small round table in the room. Unlike Dean, Sam isn't the type to run from his feelings. He's always wanted that tiny bit of normalcy in his life, that deep connection to another. He groans, yet inside he's doing a little victory dance. Hunters usually don't get the luxury of a relationship, but Gabriel is more than capable of keeping himself alive. It's hard to kill something when it presents itself as something else entirely.

"So?" the trickster wonders. "What do you say?"

"You are __so__ not topping me," Sam mutters. "And don't even __think__ about using your power against me, or I'll make you wish they let you __stay__ dead!"

"Sounds fair enough. So, hubby, shall we consummate our relationship?" he asks eagerly.

"Dean's right outside you pervert!" Sam shouts with a crimson blush.

Dean hears Sam's muffled yell, yet brushes it off as Gabriel teasing him. The breeze carries a chill to it, the night sky filled with stars that wink at the world below. There isn't a cloud above to obscure the view, the moon shining with a pale glow that's almost calming. He walks down the walkway, away from the noise, and goes back to the caller. Kevin is on the other line, questioning what had happened to steal his attention.

"It was Sam," he waves off. "We picked up an old friend that likes to tease him to death. What was it you were calling about?"

"Castiel wanted to speak with you, but thought you'd be angry with him. He left a few hours ago when Charlie contacted us," he says anxiously. "He had a weird look on his face, like he was heading to the electric chair or something. He told me he'd be back, but... I just don't believe that. I think he's walking into some serious trouble, Dean!"

"Okay, okay, calm down. What did Charlie have to say?"

"There was some weird activity in the next state," he offers. "She said she had thought there might have been an angel there, but couldn't be sure. Castiel thought it might've been one of his brothers or sisters before she said demons were gathering there as well. His face went white and he started mumbling to himself. He took some money for a bus and left."

"Send me the information, we'll go after him."

With that, they say goodbye and Dean hurries back inside. The minute he throws open the door, He cries out and covers his face with his free arm. Sam is atop the small table with Gabriel between his legs, the two kissing heatedly. They break apart quickly at the intrusion, Sam almost falling to the floor in his haste to get straightened up.

"Jesus, Sammy! How about a little _warning_ next time? That's something I just can't unsee, damn it!" Dean shouts. "Put a fucking _sign_ on the damn door or something!"

"Sorry," Sam mutters with a blush. "It sort of just... happened..."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on, grab the bags. We gotta go."

"Why?"

"... Cas is in trouble. Kevin is sending me the information on his location, apparently there's a large group of demons gathering in the next state. Charlie thought there might've been some angel activity."

Sam grabs the bags and Dean heads down into the car, starting it and waiting for his brother to get in. Just as they're speeding out of the parking lot, Dean glances into the rear-view mirror... and nearly has a heart attack. He shouts in surprise, jerking the wheel before righting his path. They barely miss an oncoming vehicle. In the backseat, looking for all the world like he belongs there, is Gabriel. Dean doesn't have to ask to know he's not going anywhere. He and Sam have come to terms with their bond... but that doesn't mean Dean has to. He'll fight it until he's blue in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I've already finished writing this fic, I'll try to have a chapter posted each day. It's very likely it'll be posted completely here faster than on FF. I guess that just depends on the amount of reviews ;p Lol! Until next time =D


	6. The Horror of Being Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunters and Gabriel hurry to Castiel's rescue, finding him locked in a cage match with a demon. Things are dealt with smoothly, which should've been their first clue... Gabriel missed a demon. This one is charged with an important task from a new enemy... Dean's defection from his group. They feel Dean is the only one holding them all together and want him gone, but killing him only seems to strengthen the group. The demon has a diabolical idea that just may work.
> 
> WARNING: Dean gets raped again. I know! Please don't hate me! T^T This time it's pretty graphic, so be warned. It starts about halfway through the chapter. If you want to skip it, it starts about paragraph 53 and ends on paragraph 66. That includes talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your new update, as promised =D Please don't hate me, I tend to torment my favorite characters... I'm sorry Dean T^T It's really your fault for being so hot and likable.

They arrive at the coordinates Kevin sent them in no time, Dean breaking every speed limit posted without care. Sam is leaning back in his seat, trying his best to keep from shouting out at every near miss. Gabriel, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. The sounds of him whooping in joy each time they round a corner too fast, cheering when they dart through an intersection regardless of oncoming cars, are grating on the taller male's nerves. He loves the trickster, there's no helping that, yet he really wishes he had a bit more self control where his humor was concerned. When they finally come to a stop outside a large warehouse, Sam opens his door and tumbles to the ground. It takes everything he has not to kiss the ground in relief. He's used to Dean's driving... but that was far worse than anything he's ever gone through in that respect.

"Awe, it wasn't _that_ bad," Gabriel grins as he pats him on the back. "I had fun. Just think... he's a race car driver."

"Race car drivers go up in smoke and fire!" Sam shouts.

"... That was the best I had, sorry."

"Let's go, Cas should be here somewhere."

Dean marches right past them, leaving Gabriel to pull Sam to his feet. The younger brother can't blame him, he knows his own feelings for the trickster would send him to war easily. He glances at the man beside him, the powerful trickster offering him a reassuring gaze in return. The area is abandoned, as they usually are, and there are no chances of innocent bystanders stumbling upon the large building. Charcoal patches cling to the walls on the outside, hinting to a fire that was likely the cause of the abandonment. It screams 'lair of evil' and Sam needs the reassurance of his new lover to keep hold of the hope that Castiel is still okay.

The warehouse isn't quiet at all when they slip through the door, sounds of yelling and vicious cheering grating on their ears. The three carefully head toward it, wary of what they might find. Gabriel keeps close to Sam, ready to send any threat to another dimension should they get too close. The unquestionable over-protectiveness surging through him is shocking even to the trickster, however he refuses to think about it. This human belongs to him and he'll destroy anyone that means to harm him, or take him away for that matter. Dean is ahead of them, though the man with the power wishes he were smarter than that. Protecting Sam is easy enough when he's right beside him, but Gabriel would've liked to stand at the front-line for the older brother as well. He curses the other's stubbornness quietly, gold eyes riveted to the form before him in a heightened sense of territorial instinct.

When they step into a large room, the group deciding to head up to the catwalk in case demons occupied the lower level, they gawk at the huge cage and ring set in the middle. Dean makes out a man in a trench coat within the ring, his brown hair matted with blood. A burly and muscular man rushes him, slamming another hit into his gut, and Cas cries out before spitting up blood. Gabriel grabs Dean's arm before he can launch himself off the catwalk.

"Let me handle this," he hisses quietly. "Stealth is sort of my specialty."

He hands the older Winchester to Sam, who locks his arms around Dean tightly to keep him immobile. Gabriel disappears from the catwalk with a snap of his fingers, the air tingling with his suppressed rage. The two scan the crowds, straining their eyes to locate the trickster. He shows up near the ring, the sprinkler system bursting to life. The screaming starts once the waters hit, the smoke and smell of burning comes soon after. The demons screech and run about, unable to get out of the room due to the salt lines left outside the doors and windows. A bullhorn suddenly appears in Sam's hand, Gabriel giving him a wink from below, and he turns it on to begin an exorcism. Soon nothing stands, the empty shells of the possessed lying in the waters unconscious. The water stops, the bullhorn vanishes, and Gabriel gets rid of the cage with a snap of his fingers. He catches Castiel when he falls, healing his wounds with the worried eyes of an older sibling.

"Geez, Cas," he states teasingly. "I can't be gone for a few years without you trying to kill yourself? What's up with that?"

"... Gabriel?"

Dean and Sam waste no time in getting to their side, the former resting his hands on Castiel's back as concern flares in him. The former angel doesn't look at Dean, unwilling to chance the disappointment that might be in his green eyes. When he's drawn back into a spontaneous hug, he's taken aback and can't help but look. Dean, however, is hidden from view. He doesn't trust his face to negate his emotions. An overwhelming feeling of relief mixed with hurt and rage almost makes him vomit, the hunter holding onto the blue eyed man so tight he's afraid he'll break something.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you, Cas?" he bites out. "What were you __thinking__ coming here without back up? You could've been _killed_!"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait until you two returned," he offers. "This place... it's a prison for my fallen brethren. It's a place of sport and death for demons. They've been capturing the angels, bringing them here to watch them fight off a demon until death."

"The angels kept the ability to make use of their power, like Lucifer did," Sam remarks. "Why would they throw __you__ into the cage as well? You're not an angel anymore."

"... They didn't believe me when I told them that."

His tone is downtrodden, however as morbid as he sounds he's at least holding a tad bitterness at the demons' stupidity. Dean and Sam help him out of the warehouse, the two hearing a sound that distracts them. It's a clatter of some sort, likely someone kicking a discarded can or knocking a folding chair over. They set the former angel down, heading back inside to check it out. Gabriel hasn't left yet, a look of concentration on his features.

"What's wrong?" Sam inquires.

"I thought I missed one," he hums in thought. "I was probably wrong, I don't feel them anymore."

The trio stops to gather Castiel, and then return to the impala. He may be healed, yet his weariness still lingers. Defeat is so plain within his frame that Dean just wants to pull him into a hug and kiss that emotion away for good. He curses under his breath and pushes those emotions down into their cage one more time. He has no clue where he lost the lock to that damn cage, yet the consequences of such a careless act will be quick to catch up. Already he can feel warmth fighting to cloud his mind at the touch of Castiel.

Gabriel helps Dean get the brunette into the backseat, sliding in beside him. Once the hunters are seated, Dean turns on the car and shifts it into drive. They drove non-stop to get there, so they decide to get a couple rooms at a nearby motel before leaving. Gabriel insisted on staying with Sam, but Dean can't stand the thought of sleeping so close to Castiel. In the end... the former arch angel won.

"I can't _believe_ you took his side," Dean spits out quietly.

They're in the store, shopping for essentials for their trip back. Sam took Gabriel's side, mainly because he wants to give Dean enough time alone with Castiel to get over his fear of commitment. At least... that's what he says. The older hunter is fairly certain he just wants some privacy to bang his new boyfriend. Not that he blames the other... there's been quite a few times in their travels Sam had to sit in the car while Dean screwed some random chick in their hotel room. Maybe this is just karma.

"It'll do you some good to bond with Cas," Sam scolds. "You two have been pussy-footing around the feelings you have for each other far too long. You'll have to face it eventually."

"I prefer eventually comes later... much, __much__ later," Dean scoffs. "Like... on my death bed, but only if I go to Hell afterward. If I end up in Heaven, I prefer later _never_ comes."

The two overhear a couple talking about a body found in the forest outside town. It's not so much that there was a body that catches their interest, but the way it was found... it's heart ripped out of its chest. There's a werewolf in town. The two glance at each other and decide to get more than just some junk food, they'll be staying more than a night or two.

Gabriel is lying on Dean's bed when they arrive, staring at the ceiling while he rabbles on to Castiel about nothing really. The other listens attentively, yet doesn't respond. He's always been a very good listener. After eons with so many older siblings, he's learned to be patient and just let them ramble until they run out of thoughts. Not exactly the best way to deal with things, but it works in most scenarios. When Dean and Sam open the door, Gabriel is sitting up with a large grin on his face.

"What did you do!" Dean immediately snaps.

"I'm insulted," Gabriel gasps dramatically. "To think you don't trust me enough to watch over my baby brother without causing trouble!"

"Of course we don't, __Loki__ ," he scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

"Point taken. So, what did you guys get me?"

"A black eye, a couple kicks to the ass... whip cream," Dean rattles off with a mischievous glint in his eyes at the last.

"Shut the hell up, Dean," Sam snaps.

He hits his older brother upside the head, Dean laughing wickedly at his blush, and throws the bags at Gabriel. To his disappointment, there's no whip cream. Of course, he's not stupid enough to mention that with Sam standing right there. Instead, he pulls out a bag of chips. Dean takes the bags on the bed and heads to the small kitchenette, tossing them on a counter before putting them away. Sam looks around the motel, remembering when Dean went to Purgatory and he decided not to look for him. This place is similar to the motel he lived in when he met Amelia Richardson, the second woman he's ever loved. He sits at the small table and watches Castiel a long moment, wondering if he'll be okay alone with Dean. His older brother is quite irritable, which means he'll be less than understanding and more than unnecessarily snappish. So far, whenever he's gone off on Castiel the other has answered with running off or closing up. That's the last thing needed right now. He knows it'll be difficult for the older Winchester to open up to the former angel, yet there aren't many other options. He's just overjoyed Castiel seems to be the only person with the patience to deal with his brother's bullshit.

"We should let these two alone," Gabriel grins. "You know, go back to our room and... get acquainted."

He wags his eyebrows suggestively, drawing a groan from the kitchenette. Sam smirks, sending his brother a short good-bye before leaving. Their room is next door, however the walls are pretty thick. If they weren't, he's positive Gabriel would make them soundproof... get rid of any excuse Sam might find to put off exploring the pleasure of having a mate. When the door shuts, Castiel raises his head and looks toward Dean. His back is to him, the other leaning down into a cabinet beneath the sink to check on a pipe. The hunter doesn't see Castiel's eyes go black, nor does he notice when he reaches for a clock. Castiel walks soundlessly over to the other, his warrior skills not diminished in the least with the rise of his humanity, and brings the object down on the back of Dean's head. The green-eyed hunter intakes sharply, his vision going black as he falls into the cabinet.

Dean wakes with a groan, attempting to move his hand to his head... only to find it bound. For some strange reason, though he knows he should've felt panic at the memory of his abduction, he only feels a large amount of irritation. He can hear breathing on the bed beside his, his head turning to see Castiel gazing at him silently.

"I know you were pissed I wouldn't talk to you about my nightmares, Cas, but this is ridiculous," Dean sighs in exasperation. "What makes you think I'll tell you anything while you're holding me captive? All I have to do is wait for the morning and Sam will show up with Gabriel."

"You think this is about _nightmares_?" the other comments with a hint of amusement. "Poor, poor, delusional hunter."

A splash of cold flows through Dean's veins at the statement. He knows in that moment that this isn't Castiel, though he doesn't know what it is he's dealing with. If it weren't the Castiel he knows, he doubts they could've gotten this close to him. Just as he's about to ask what's going on, the former angel's eyes go completely black. His heart skips a beat at the sight. It would seem this demon heard it, as he twists Castiel's lips into a savage grin. All things considered, however, Dean still can't bring himself to fear the face that looks upon him.

"Your trickster was right, he _did_ miss one," the demon comments in that husky voice Dean has come to love. "I saw you three coming in and didn't go into the arena... I was ordered to keep a look out for you. I'm glad she demanded I break you, this is an honor other demons would've killed for."

"Break me?" Dean frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh come now, rumor has it this isn't the first time a supernatural being has had you tied to a bed... surely you can guess what comes next," the other laughs wickedly. "And I'll be sure to hurt you bad enough you'll be packing your bags tomorrow and leaving this little group behind."

"Who ordered you to attack me?" the hunter asks harshly. "Why not just kill me?"

The demon falls silent, as though contemplating that very thing. He stands and walks around the bed, his eyes lingering on Dean a bit too intently. The room is so silent, not even the fan's soft whir reaching the ears in the room, and it's so cold. Goosebumps rise on Dean's skin, the hunter licking his lips nervously as the possessed man paces the floor. Each tap of his foot against the floorboards strikes him with a mixture of fear and anticipation. For a moment, the green-eyed hunter doesn't think he'll answer. A thousand questions rattle around in his mind, his eyes hard and even though they want to beg for answers. The demon steps back the way he came, stopping at the end of the bed.

"I asked Kushiel that myself," he ponders aloud. "All she told me was that... to kill you would be to bring down a wrath greater than God upon herself. Apparently, you're far more important than the angels ever __thought__ you could be. I'm just glad she chose this punishment instead. You see, she believes you and your brother are a danger to her. She wants to break you up, get you away from your powerful friends. She told me to scar you so badly emotionally and mentally that you'll _shudder_ at the thought of being around your angel friend. My methods were my own to choose, though I asked what she thought of them... she was quite pleased."

"... Kushiel?" Dean murmurs more to himself.

The bed dips and he freezes, his eyes darting to the body moving over him. Surprisingly, he finds himself relaxing at the sight of Castiel. His eyes are no longer completely black, but that gorgeous blue that draws him like a moth to flame. The demon settles himself on Dean's hips, grinning as he reaches for the others shirt. He runs his fingers along the hunter's firm chest and abs, sending a shiver through Dean he's ashamed to say was more pleasure than disgust.

He looks away petulantly, unwilling to admit he's enjoying the former angel taking advantage of him. He keeps trying to convince himself that this isn't Castiel, that this is just a demon trying to hurt him, yet a small part of him wishes that weren't the case. That small part assures him if he believes this is his friend tearing his shirt from his body, it'll make it that much more bearable... but it won't. It'll make Dean feel guilty, make him regret all this when he sees Castiel's confused and guilty features afterward, and he doesn't want to deal with that.

The possessed Castiel draws his nails harshly down Dean's chest, leaving angry red marks that bead blood here and there. Dean hisses, yet gives him no more than that. The demon within his friend seems to take that as a personal challenge, backing up and drawing his pants down as he does so. Those features, once so calm and childish, are twisted in malice and sadistic pleasure. It's a look that doesn't belong on Castiel, yet one that helps Dean remember this isn't his savior. No matter how much he remembers that, though, his body won't react the way it should to such an assault. It stays relaxed and inviting. It wants this, no matter how much he tries to convince himself he doesn't. The memories of his dream flood his mind and he just knows he'd submit even if it _were_ Castiel hurting him. The base instincts within him bare his neck to the man they see as his dominant, begging to be thoroughly claimed in every way possible by the blue eyed male. It makes his breath stutter, a shiver ripping through his frame almost violently, and he has to bite back a moan.

"So... you actually trust me in this meat suit," the demon says in humor. "We'll see how long that lasts, Dean. Or perhaps, that's exactly what I want. So when I leave you broken and used you'll never forget the one that did it. You'll never look at him the same way, always flinching away and pushing him further from you."

Dean notes that his tone changed from before, mimicking Castiel's voice perfectly. His brain trips up, confusion setting in alongside doubt. This demon is good, yet Dean knows all the tricks and he won't be fooled. Castiel would never do this to him. He gasps as a blade is drawn along his skin, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to keep in his cries. Sam won't hear him, no matter how loud he might scream his brother won't hear. All he has is his defiance, which is quickly melting away as he gazes upon the former angel that's been beside him since he was pulled from Hell. No matter how much it wants to, panic and fear refuse to fight down the desire and trust. It doesn't matter how many times that blade digs stinging trenches in his flesh, how many times that hand strikes his face harshly, he has nothing but adoration for the man he calls his savior.

The trench coat is discarded, however for some reason the demon keeps Castiel's clothes on. Dean knows there's a reason for this, yet can't think of what it might be. The knife is brought down on him again, sinking deeper this time next to his hip. It hurts, so damn much, but there's a strange sense of arousal brought on by the pain. It's not something he's ever taken into consideration before, it's never been enticing enough and it's just never been his thing, but for some reason it serves to arouse him further. He wants to moan, throw his head back wantonly and beg like a two dollar whore, however his pride refuses to allow it knowing that demon is responsible for his pleasure. The hunter's lip breaks as he bites down harder, blood dripping down to the sheets as he stubbornly looks away. He hears a zipper as it's drawn down, his green eyes shutting tight against the noise, and he unconsciously tugs on his binds. He can't decide if it's an attempt at escape, or a need to touch the other back... he prays it's the former.

"I guess I don't like you that much," the demon states meanly. "I'm just not even __trying__ to save you from what's about to happen. Maybe I __want__ to hurt you like this, bend you over and remind you who the stronger man is. You're always so damn defiant, so mouthy... ever since I pulled you from Hell all you've ever done is cause trouble. It doesn't reflect well on me, you know."

He slams the blade into Dean's upper arm, his mouth opening in a silent scream. His chest is a portrait painted in crimson, one the man above him leans down to lick. Suddenly, something thick and hard is rammed into his entrance. Between the pain and the blood loss, Dean almost passes out. A hand strikes him sharply, mercilessly, and draws his attention back with a jerk.

"Now, now," the demon Castiel reprimands. "Don't pass out on me. You should be __overjoyed__ I'm wasting my time on you. Just like back then. You were right when you told me you didn't deserve to be saved, but I couldn't very well tell the angels that. It was an order, you know, I never _wanted_ to raise you from Hell. You were there for a reason, you should've __stayed__ there... I should've sent you back the minute you started mouthing off like the bitch you are!"

"... Sh-shut up," Dean spits out.

His breath hitches when they pull out, ramming their thick sex back in carelessly. They don't even attempt to touch Dean's prostate, instead making it their mission to miss every time. He knows he's bleeding down there, the stinging pain of pre-cum spread along the tears telling him that much. Breathing doesn't come very easy at the moment, instead labored in an attempt to push back the rapidly building elation. He won't give this demon the pleasure of getting him off with this treatment.

"You're such a fool. I can't believe you _ever_ thought someone like _me_ could be friends with someone like _you_ ," Castiel scoffs as he thrusts into Dean roughly. " _This_ is where you belong, where you've __always__ belonged... beneath me. It was so much fun watching you fall over yourself all the time, thinking I was on your side when I was actually down here as a spy for Heaven. _I_ was the one that let your brother out during the apocalypse, out of that panic room you thought he was so safe in. I wanted to end you so badly when Naomi ordered your death for the angel tablet, I could __taste__ it. You're more useful alive, though... well... you were at the time."

"You're not Cas," Dean gasps out shakily.

The being driving himself into Dean laughs harshly, digging his nails into Dean's shoulders until blood coats the tips. His whole body hurts, now registering the pain over the trust. Too little to late in his opinion. Though his mind knows this isn't Castiel, that small part that followed the former angel with doubtless loyalty isn't wavering. A hand yanks on his hair hard, teeth coming down to bite harshly into his neck and shoulder joint. That base instinct screams in satisfaction, elated to be claimed by the alpha personality he's bowed to countless times before. Release almost takes him by storm, suppressed only by his determination... something that's quickly deteriorating in the face of such desire. He can feel tears welling in his eyes, begging for relief from the straining erection he knows he has.

"You're so easy to hurt, Dean," Castiel whispers into Dean's ear, a sick twist on a sultry tone. "Such an emotional fool, though you like to think you're not. When I brought back Sam from Lucifer's cage? I didn't bring up his soul on __purpose__ , just to hurt you. I knew you two would eventually find each other again, but I couldn't have his conscience getting in the way of what Crowley and I needed from him. When you finally _did_ rejoin him, I knew you'd be too busy watching over him to get in my way. It was a perfect plan, I must admit. You never had a _chance_ of stopping me from unleashing the Leviathan. Just like you never had a chance of fighting me back now. You __want__ to be here, taking this abuse from me, it's easy to see even now. Such a pathetic creature, looking for love in all the wrong places. Be happy I gave you this night, Dean, because it _never_ would've happened otherwise."

With that, the demon rams his sex into Dean one last time. As Dean's world shatters at those words, the possessed Castiel empties himself within his used and beaten body. It's not what he expected, there should've been pain and shame and so many ill emotions they would drive him to cry. There's none of that, just a sense of completion and a flood of warmth that carresses his heart. He's blinded by a white light as his body shudders in release, though it's not the light he's usually privy to during release. This one is almost... heavenly, for lack of a better word. He can almost swear he hears angels singing in a choir distantly, see those pearly gates he's hears of so often. It's beautiful, his body awash in sunlight derived straight from the fiery ball itself. So much heat, he can only imagine that his eyes are glowing with it.

The demon pulls away from Dean's body, the hunter's blood soaking into Castiel's clothes... so that's why he left them on. His member is covered in Dean's blood and his own semen. He doesn't bother to tuck himself in, though there's something in his eyes that doesn't match this scene. He scrambles away from the body he's just torn apart; emotionally, physically, and mentally. Castiel's body sinks to the floor, his eyes burning bright for a moment. Dean decides he's just tired and the sight was his imagination, his green eyes closing against the reality that's far more horrible to him than any creature he's ever fought. He doesn't notice the tear that runs along his cheek as he passes out.

Castiel rouses about an hour after Dean passes out, his body heavy and weary. He doesn't remember much, just that he was sitting with Gabriel while the Winchesters went shopping. When Gabriel left with Sam... everything went black. His shirt is crispy, as though something dried on it, and he looks down to inspect it. The sight of so much blood and cum dried upon his shirt almost has him puking. He's shocked to find his pants undone, quickly tucking himself back in, and stands. Dean is unconscious on the bed, still bound to the posts like a sacrifice. Castiel's mind is a tilt-a-whirl, the world spinning too fast for him to keep up. All the injuries upon his friend, the one man he's protected with his life... he can recall flashes of memory that show _him_ doing such horrid things to the hunter. He stumbles to the bathroom, falling to the floor and emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Sam lies in bed with Gabriel, staring at the ceiling in contemplation. The trickster is asleep beside him, his head lying on Sam's chest intimately. They've just finished their second round of sex, the both of them so satisfied there just aren't words for it. He has to admit he felt more complete with Gabriel than Jessica or Amelia, like a puzzle that's finally found the right piece. They were close to a match, but he fit perfectly. One of his hands plays with the other man's hair unconsciously, a knot in his stomach that has nothing to do with his closeness to the trickster.

"Something wrong?" Gabriel murmurs against him.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"I was, now I'm not. What's bothering you?"

"I can't help thinking you really _did_ miss one of those demons. If you did, what would it do?" Sam wonders. "I mean, I'm _positive_ it wouldn't just run off with its tail between its legs. What if it strikes back?"

"You're safe with me," the brunette assures. "I won't let anything happen to you, Sam."

"... It's not me I'm worried about," he admits quietly.

Gabriel frowns and sits up, glancing at his lover quietly. It makes sense that Sam should be more worried about Dean, as his brother hasn't been acting like himself since Aphrodite marked him. He's been distant and lost in his own thoughts, a frame of mind a hunter can't afford to have. Should they go after the green-eyed brother, there's no doubt in his mind Dean will be caught and possibly killed. He sighs and looks toward the door, wondering if he should go check on the duo in the next room... if only to soothe Sam's worry.

"I'll go check on them," he states as he moves to get up. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"I'll go with you," Sam sighs.

For just a moment, a feeling of utter dread strikes him. Something isn't right and whatever it is Sam shouldn't see it. He smiles at his lover, leaning in to kiss him gently, and then persuades him to stay. The trickster pulls on his jeans and runs a hand through his hair, hurrying out the door and shutting it tight behind him.

It's cold out, much more so than when they entered the hotel. He can smell a storm in the air, though he knows it'll pass them by, and sighs in content. He makes his way over to the room next door and sets his hand on the knob. Gabriel leans heavily against the door, breathing deeply as though to steel himself for what he's about to walk into. He doesn't know why, yet he just _knows_ what he's about to see isn't going to be something he can easily forget. It scares him, a feeling he's never grown used to after all his many centuries. He knocks, waiting for an answer. When no one speaks, he presses his ear to the door. He doesn't bother with the knob, though he had placed his hand upon it, instead vanishing and reappearing in the room.

The first thing he sees is, surprisingly, not Dean... but Castiel. His eyes turning away from the bed on instinct, or out of respect. The motion is probably resting in the fact he doesn't expect to find anyone upon the mattress, least of all an injured and recently assaulted hunter. His little brother is sitting on the floor at the end of the bed, a look so lost upon his face that Gabriel is afraid his mind has finally broken. He steps closer to his wayward brother, finally catching sight of Dean upon the bed. The sight is sickening, far worse than what the Amazons could ever hope to do, and he grabs a discarded sheet to drape over the Winchester's bare body. He kneels to sit beside his little brother, the baby among the angels.

"... I don't know what happened," Castiel murmurs with a tone soaked in shed tears. "I just remember sitting with you... and then nothing. I woke up on the floor by the bed. Dean was... he was so... oh, God, what did I do?"

Gabriel sighs and puts a comforting arm around his brother, pulling him close as he searches for words to say. He knows the other could never bring himself to harm Dean, this was the work of something else, but the stains all over Castiel's clothes peg him for the attacker. He can hear Sam's voice in the back of his mind, ' _I can't help thinking you really did miss one of those demons_ '. So this is what they did to get back at them. The rage he felt while watching the women from before gang rape Dean is nothing compared to what he feels now. Dean is Sam's brother, which makes him family... and Gabriel would tear apart the world to protect his family. The embrace around the former angel tightens and he sobs anew, finding solace and safety within the understanding arms of his older brother.

"Castiel, I had thought I missed a demon back at the warehouse," Gabriel explains. "I must have, because you would _never_ hurt Dean like this. It must've possessed you."

"Don't you see? That doesn't matter," the former angel whispers out. "I can remember what it said to him, told him as though __I__ were telling him... I saw his eyes go dull, broken. He'll hate me, I just know it!"

"Don't talk like that, Castiel," Gabriel reprimands. "Dean could never hate you, no matter what you do."

"This isn't betraying him in the name of Heaven!" Castiel snaps. "It isn't helping Crowley to fix my mistakes, or letting loose Leviathans on accident, or helping Metatron because I believed his lies! This is __worse__! It's _so_ much worse!"

There's a groan from the bed, Castiel's whole form going ridged at the sound. A streak of fear and self-loathing passes through his gorgeous blues, telling Gabriel Dean wasn't the only one damaged by all this. He turns to see Dean stirring from his forced slumber, tugging at the restraints with a sense of impending doom. There isn't much fear in his eyes, yet the little there is easy to make out. His breathing is slightly panicked, green orbs darting about to find his tormentor. Beside him, his little brother sucks in a sharp breath, shivering as he cowers into his side. The room is filled with tension, it reeks of blood and sweat and non-consensual sex. It's obvious the hunter is feeling quite the rabbit trapped with a hungry wolf, so Gabriel attempts to still his anxiety.

"You're okay, Dean," he offers softly. "I'll undo the binds, okay? Just, please, calm down. No one is going to hurt you anymore."

Surprisingly, Dean calms at the sound of Gabriel's voice. The trickster has to admit, it's a first he never thought would come. Carefully, he unties the hunter and Dean drops his arms to his sides. They feel like weights are tied to them, so heavy and unwilling to cooperate. He turns his head and takes in Castiel's defeated and destroyed form sitting against the bed. Those blue eyes are red and puffy from crying, hitting Dean hard with sadness and guilt. He doesn't say anything, though a small amount of tension at his jaw hints to an emotion the trickster can't read. He wishes he brought Sam along, if only to read that hidden feeling. Castiel can't bring himself to look at Dean, though he can hardly blame him. He's drowning in a torrential storm of emotions he's never faced before, one of them being caused by the bond Aphrodite threw upon them without warning. He wouldn't be surprised if his baby brother didn't even know about that bond and its affects. Gabriel reaches to heal Dean, yet a bloody hand settles on his wrist to stop him. His green orbs are dulled and tired, his body so sore he can't bring himself to speak. He doesn't want healed right now, he just wants to be left alone. Against his better judgment, the trickster relents and backs away from the body lying prone on the mattress.


	7. The Weight of Inadvertent Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's world is crumbling around him and Cas is breaking, the shock of what happened tearing him apart. Not only has his hunter been hurt by the Amazons, but now his own vessel has taken advantage of him as well. As he searches for forgiveness from Dean, insult is added to injury in the hunter's mind. Cas has gained something through Dean's suffering. Dean is torn, wanting to push Cas away and also wanting to huddle in his arms. His only safe haven has turned against him and scarred him in a horrible way. Cas relays the demon's words to Gabriel, who's worried about Kushiel attacking like this. He feels a visit to Aphrodite is in order and leaves Sam in Castiel's care.

Gabriel paces the length of his room, Sam watching him in question. It hasn't been fifteen minutes since he came back from checking on Dean, a strange look of worry and frustration in his eyes. There's a strange haunted air that hangs about the room now, brought in by the other and left to stew. It's stifling and worrisome, fluctuating with each pass made in pacing. He hasn't told Sam what happened, though he's asked multiple times, and hasn't allowed the taller Winchester to leave the room and check himself. Sam is getting agitated. It would seem, however, that the trickster's attention span only pertains to keeping him away from the door. When he's not ushering Sam back to the center of the room, his eyes are distant and he's lost in thought. Footsteps tap against the floor in a steady rhythm, the noise the only one within the too quiet room. Each step sounds like the beat of a drum in an echoic room.

"I was right, wasn't I?" Sam wonders seriously. "That demon targeted Dean, didn't they?"

"... Yes," Gabriel gets out. "He possessed Castiel and made him hurt Dean. They're both pretty broken up about it. I thought it would do them some good to talk it out, but... I'm doubting my decision."

"... We'll give them an hour," Sam sighs. "Listen for them. If they start trying to kill one another, we need to get there fast."

"And that's why _you're_ the dominant in this relationship!"

Dean stares at the ceiling for a long moment before trying to get up. Pain rockets along nerve endings, sending jolts of agony to his brain and Dean gasps at the unexpected sensation. The sensitivity of his body doesn't help him any. His injuries are worse than he thought, his blood loss sending a wave of dizziness through him. A groan spills from his lips, the only thing that has Castiel lifting his head in question. He sees Dean on the move, debating whether he should get up and help or not. There's a sinking feeling in his stomach, a rock of nausea and guilt, and his brow furrows at the internal battle. Sobs want to burst forth once more, that feeling dragging him down to depths he's only seen in Hell. For reasons unknown, he wishes he could place that blade in Dean's hand and spread his arms inviting his wrath. It's such a powerful need that his fingers twitch, searching for the blade he wishes to be his demise. It's too far away, the former angel resorting to the next best thing... groveling.

"... I'm sorry," Castiel murmurs hoarsely. "I'm _so_ sorry... I know it doesn't help any, but... I really am _truly_ sorry."

"It's not your fault," he answers in a whisper. "You were possessed... you couldn't stop it. It wasn't you hurting me, Cas, it was the demon."

"The things it said to you, Dean," Castiel comments quietly. "None of that was true. You have to believe me, none of that is true. I didn't feel that way, not at all. I would _never_ hurt you, I would... I would _die_ to keep you and Sam safe, Dean."

"I know, Cas," Dean sighs out tiredly. "It wasn't your fault."

Castiel hangs his head again, watching the floor as though it's the most fascinating thing in the room. The sheets are still covered in Dean's blood, the Winchester himself feeling the tight grip of sleep clinging to him. He's afraid if he gives in, he won't wake up again. The former angel seems to catch on to this, carefully standing and moving toward the man he just brutalized. Hesitance plays throughout every movement, blue pools filled with uncertainty and a form of hurt he's never been privy to before. He doesn't like it in the least, it feels as though his whole world has just blown up and its pieces have scattered to the four winds. Any reason for living seemed to have died with the attack that just took place only moment ago. He's relieved when Dean doesn't flinch at the hand on his shoulder.

"I wish I could heal you like before," Castiel sighs. "If I could, I'd take on all your pain and suffer it for you. God, I wish I could."

He strokes Dean's cheek affectionately, almost pulling away when the other flinches. He closes his eyes, the thought of Dean being afraid of him filling him with an emotion he's become familiar with... regret. If only he were stronger, that demon never would've tried to possess him. Dean feels a warmth he knows he's felt before upon his skin, all his injuries vanishing beneath Castiel's touch. He stares at the other in complete shock, watching as his skin seems to glow in a heavenly light. That heat, it's the same he felt during his release. This time, however, it's lying upon him in a blanket and not passing through him.

"Cas," he mumbles. "Cas, open your eyes."

He does as told, the blue irises there alight with such power it's almost blinding. Dean can only gawk at the brunette, his mind trying it's hardest to catch up with everything that's going on. Castiel doesn't seem to notice the shock, his eyes immediately dropping at the thought of hate within Dean's orbs. It isn't until Dean finally understands what's happened that he speaks once more.

"Cas!" he states a bit dumbfounded. "Dude, you're an angel again!"

"What are you talking about? That's highly impossible, Dean," he frowns. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't joke like that. I know what I did was wrong and horrible, but there's no need for jokes pertaining to my..."

"Cas! Shut up and look at me!" Dean snaps.

The brunette does so, his eyes going large at the sight of a perfectly healed Winchester. So, he _wasn't_ imagining things when he saw Castiel's eyes glowing. A sudden thought hits him, a question on the demon's whereabouts after he raped Dean. His green eyes turn to Castiel, a small part of him begging for more space between them. It pains him to think any part of his mind would accuse Castiel of those terrible acts, yet there's not much he can do about it aside from reminding himself of the demon. The sorrow and guilt shown by his friend is enough to help him hold his sanity, grip tightly to hope that all this will blow over like everything else that's ever happened to him. Without thinking, a free hand reaches over and sets itself upon Castiel's. The touch still holds that strange electricity, sending desire and an emotion he's not ready to except barreling through him.

"... What happened to the demon that possessed you?" Dean wonders quietly.

"If it was still inside me when I was gifted with my Grace again, it would've been smote immediately," he answers. "I'm sure it wasn't expecting my Grace to return in such a manner, or I doubt it would've used me to harm you in such a way."

The remark sends flashes of the incident through Dean's mind, the other shivering in disgust and anger... mostly at himself. The memory of his overwhelming pleasure at the abuse, the pure need and want beneath the touch of the blue eyed man, tears him apart. The blinding light of release taking hold like a parasite, the moans and groans that demanded be voiced, the urge to spread his legs wider and wrap them around the other... how could he have been so responsive to that bastard? He knows it wasn't his fault, however it just kills him that it affected him so much. Things he knew weren't true, weren't done by Castiel, hit him harder than any fist could've when that demon took over his friend's body. He just can't figure out why. Now, Castiel has gained his angel-hood through Dean's suffering... how fair is that?

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he growls in anger. "I get raped and tortured and you get your fucking angel status back?"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel frowns. "Even if I knew, I never would've done something like this."

"Just... stop talking," Dean mutters. "I'm gonna go take a bath."

"Do you need..?"

"No! I don't need help!"

Castiel backs away to sit on the other bed, a hurt expression on his face. Dean has never really been stricken by such an expression, especially when he feels betrayed by the other. Let's face it, their current situation may not be betrayal... but it feels enough like it for Dean's temper. He just needs to lash out, make someone else hurt the way he does. It isn't fair that ire be directed at an innocent, yet targets have never been considered in these instances... the closer they are the more likely they're snapped at. He gets out of bed, glad he isn't sporting all his injuries from before, and heads to the bathroom.

The bathroom is small, though it's easy to move around in. The shower is large enough and the tub rather deep. He hates the toilet, it's too low to the ground and makes him think he's falling each time he needs to sit on it, and the sink is just shy of Sam smacking his head on it should he lean down to pick something up. Here the air conditioner wrecks havoc and the heater barely touches, it's always chilly in this room and he has no clue why.

Dean draws some hot water and tosses the bloody sheet aside when it's finished, sinking down into the water with a relieved sigh. Had it been the harsh spray of the shower, it may have invoked feelings of deja-vu. He didn't bother to close the door, he doesn't know why. Perhaps a part of him, the one that realizes Castiel wasn't to blame, needs to feel close to the other... for safety purposes. After all, though they've been through hell together, Castiel has always sent a feeling of refuge through Dean. Maybe it's the whole 'savior' thing, knowing he was the one that pulled him from the fires.

"Cas?" he calls at the sound of a door opening and closing. "Cas? Are you still here?"

"I'm here," he answers, his voice growing louder as he gets closer. "That was Sam and Gabriel... they just wanted to check on us. I told them you were angry with me and went to take a bath, so they said they'd come check on you later."

"... I'm not... angry with you," Dean sighs. "I'm just..."

"Angry," Castiel comments. "I know you, Dean. I know when you're angry, though I don't always know why or at who. You tend to be mad at me often, so it's easy to see when you're getting there. You're angry at me and I understand why... I'm angry at me, too."

The last part is said quietly, soaked in so much sorrow and self-blame it breaks the hunter's heart. Dean groans and slides into the water, dunking below the surface to get away from reality for just a moment. This is too much. Kushiel just might get exactly what they want if this keeps up, as Dean can only handle so much stress before he snaps. He's not mad at Castiel, he's afraid of him. The realization hurts almost as bad as that damn blade. The other has never given him reason to fear him before, if he knew that was Dean's problem it would likely destroy him. Dean knows that's _exactly_ what Kushiel wants, he really tried to ignore it and defy their plans, yet it's more difficult than he thought. Seeing his brunette friend only reminds him of those blue eyes staring at him in malice, those lips whispering such wicked lies in his ear, and those hands repeatedly stabbing him while groping every bit of flesh possible.

Lost in his thoughts he doesn't realize just how long he's been underwater. He's pulled from beneath the waters by Castiel, the angel's eyes filled with worry. Dean flinches at the touch, yet forces himself to look the angel in the eyes anyway. There's a moment, just a single moment, that his heart hammers at their proximity... their faces only inches apart. It's over quickly, the hunter shaking it off as that fear from before. Only... he knows it was the complete opposite. Had he been given just a few more seconds within that spell, he would've kiss those plump lips without a thought.

"Are you okay?" Castiel asks.

"I'm fine, Cas," Dean murmurs. "Can you please let me take my bath in peace?"

"... Oh! Apologies," he blushes lightly. "I'll, uh... be in the other room if you need me."

He retreats, the hunter unable to keep the small smirk from his lips. Castiel will always be Castiel, no matter what might possess him. Dean sighs and sinks down in the hot water until it almost touches his nose, his green eyes staring at the wall across from him. They're unseeing, his mind too wrapped around thoughts and memories to really pay attention.

He's glad Castiel healed him, though it was only his body that healed. His soul is still torn. Then again, what's new? He's beginning to see that he and Sam aren't meant to be whole... their souls will continue to be tattered and bruised until there's nothing left. Dean briefly wonders how much of his defiance and personality he'll have left when he finally reaches the end. Will he be like all the older hunters; so bitter and fed up with life? Will he even live that long? If things keep going at the pace they've picked up to... he might not.

Castiel sits completely still in the bedroom, his breathing stressed and his heart aching. He glances back at the bathroom door, deciding Dean will be fine as he heads to the door. The hunter most likely needs some time away from his abuser anyway. The thought strikes the angel with a heartache he's unprepared for. With a sharp inhale of air, he pushes open the front door and closes it behind him. Dean hears the door shutting, his heart skipping a beat as he calls out for Castiel. When he gets no answer, he finds the bathroom to be a very dark place. In an attempt to cast aside his sudden vulnerability, he gets out and dries off to dress. Once he's pulled on a pair of sleeping pants, he grabs a blanket off Castiel's bed and wraps up in it in the furthest corner of the room. His eyes stay glued to the door, knowing that to be the only place of entrance.

Sam is just nodding off when their door opens, Gabriel glancing that way in surprise. Castiel enters, his entire form downtrodden, and looks to his older brother like he'll never find his way again. It's not the first time he's had that look, though it's first time it's been so final. Along with the depression that seems to cling to him like his shadow, the utter air of rejection hangs about his head like a storm cloud. Sam sends a questioning look his way, immediately hurrying over to keep Dean company without even needing to hear he's been left alone. The older Winchester may not like to talk about how he's feeling, but they've reached a mutual understanding... they go through it all together. Maybe not talkative and maybe silently, but always together. Once Sam is gone, Gabriel sits down and watches his little brother.

"... I'm an angel again," Castiel murmurs. "But at the expense of Dean's pride and our already shaky friendship. I would've much rather liked to keep things the way they were if I had a choice."

"I wish Dean would've told me what happened," Gabriel sighs. "Maybe the demon let slip why they would rape him using your body."

"I can remember him speaking to Dean," Castiel remarks a bit haunted. "I can hear him pretending to be me, mocking Dean and telling him all sorts of lies. Telling him how lucky he was for that to happen... I tried so damn hard to fight him."

"I know, Cas. I know you did, you would never hurt Dean if you could help it. Now, please concentrate. I need to know __exactly__ what happened and what was said."

Castiel takes a deep breath and sits on the bed beside Gabriel, his head hanging in shame as he relays everything that happened in detail to the trickster. Gabriel's trickster personality normally takes great delight in the suffering of others, though he has a higher standard of morals than most supernatural things... but hearing what happened to Dean makes him sick to his stomach. The fact his softhearted baby brother had to be present in the back of his mind during this, has to live with the knowledge his own body did that to his best friend and soul-mate, has him pulling the younger male into his arms for a hug. He makes a mental note to never play another mean prank on the hunter again, he simply doesn't deserve to add to his plate of misfortune. Finally, once Castiel comes to the end, Gabriel opens his mouth to speak.

"You're positive he said _Kushiel_ ordered all this? That she wanted to push you and Dean apart?"

"Yes, that's what was said."

"And no wonder," Gabriel scoffs. "If sleeping with Dean was all it took to get your angel mojo back, obviously she'd want to do the worst possible thing imaginable to make certain her plans worked. She must've thought the window to hurt Dean was much larger than it was, probably hoped her lackey attacked him before it was possible for your angel-hood to return through him."

"Well, I'm glad _you_ know what's going on, because I sure don't," Castiel murmurs. "Dean's been acting strange ever since he found that unusual coin, and then he gets attacked not once... but twice. I just... I wish he would __talk__ to me! He never talks about what he's feeling, it drives me crazy! I can't help him if I don't know."

"The boys had mentioned the coin before," Gabriel comments. "I told them Aphrodite was involved, that she had orders from a higher power. I had debated whether or not to go speak with her... I suppose I'll have to now. You stay here and watch over the boys, take care of them. I'll be back in a day or two."

Castiel nods and watches as his brother vanishes in a ruffle of black wings. He's stunned for only a moment, the realization that Gabriel regained his own angel-hood through Sam quick to strike him. He sighs and stands up, pacing for a few minutes as he disputes returning to Dean and Sam. After a long mental argument, he sighs and exits the room.

Sam is sitting at the small table, Dean pacing the room frantically. When Castiel walks in, the older brother stumbles just slightly... just enough that the angel notices. It's apparent he doesn't mean it, the brunette obviously doesn't blame him. It certainly doesn't make him feel any better about what happened, that's for sure. Those wide green eyes searching for an exit discreetly while also trying to look into blue pools just tears his heart apart. Upon seeing Castiel step back toward the door, Dean attempts a quick save.

"Perfect timing, Cas," he remarks with a nervous smirk. "Sammy was just about to get out the ice cream and a chick flick. We were gonna bond on our feelings over Hagendas and tissues, sound fun?"

"Oh shut up, Dean," Sam mutters. "Where's Gabriel?"

"He's left to speak with Aphrodite," Castiel informs with a strange look at the shorter brother. "He said he'll be back in a day or two. Although, I would've liked to know she was the one that Dean encountered. I've also noticed that Gabriel has regained his angel power as well."

Dean sends a disbelieving look toward his brother, his mouth slightly agape in shock. Sam shrugs in reply, trying his best not to blush at the complete and utter stupefaction on his brother's face. He saw nothing wrong in it, the other _is_ his soul-mate after all. He could feel that bond compelling him to sleep with the trickster, it was the best sex of his life and he's not about to let Dean make him feel regretful. He knows that's not his intention, but that expression is making Sam rethink his decision to give in.

"What do you mean 'as well', Cas?" Sam asks. "How the hell did Gabriel get his angel power back? We've been trying to figure out how to return _your_ Grace for _months_ and haven't found a way!"

"I don't know, I think he's hoping Aphrodite can answer that question."

"Great," Dean frowns. "What do we do now? Hole up and jerk off until he comes back?"

"He'll be able to find us, I'm sure," Sam sighs. "I say we call Kevin and see if Charlie's found us another job nearby. I'll make the call, you two stay here... Try not to kill each other. And for the love of Artemis, __talk__ to each other! We'll _never_ be able to work together unless Dean admits that attack affected him, you two _need_ to work this out!"

"I'm fine," Dean snaps. "Just make the damn call. And don't forget there's a werewolf running amok here!"

Sam sighs and heads toward the door, pulling his phone from his back pocket. When it shuts, Castiel sends a look of inquiry to the green-eyed hunter. Dean doesn't even look at him, instead pacing the length of the room. His form is tense and he seems very nervous being alone with the angel, something that's weighing heavily upon Castiel's shoulders.

"I don't know how to make this better," he remarks almost sadly. "You said it wasn't my fault, but it was. I fought so hard to stop him, but I wasn't strong enough. In my opinion, that makes it my fault. I should've been stronger, I should've fought harder. I wish I could make it all go away, I wish I managed to fight back adequately, and I wish more than anything I would _never_ have come back..."

"Don't say that," Dean snaps. "Don't __ever__ say you shouldn't have come back! You're family, Cas, you __belong__ with us! Sometimes family hurts each other, that's a given, but you __never__ give up on family! You never cast them aside and you never push them away!"

"... But that's exactly what you're doing. I know you're trying not to, but I can see that it doesn't matter... you're pushing me back anyway. I know you don't want to talk about it, so I'll talk and you can listen. If it would make you happier, I'll leave. Just tell me and I'll go. I don't want you to hurt because of me, Dean. If you need time, I'll go and give you all you need."

"No, Cas, you shouldn't have to leave. Like I said, it wasn't your fault," Dean sighs. "I don't want you to leave, I'll figure out how to get past this. Just... don't go."

Castiel isn't convinced, yet he nods in agreement. Dean lets out a breath, as though he were holding it in as he waited for the answer. It kills him inside, to need Castiel around so badly even though when he looks at him he can see that demon on top of him. Can feel them inside him, brutalizing him without care. He's never felt so torn in all his life, not even when his father told him he might have to kill Sam. The choice there was obvious to him, he would never have pulled the trigger on his little brother. It didn't matter what the other did, he practically raised Sam and he knew what he was capable of... what he wasn't and could never be. Now, that feeling is gone. Dean has no clue what to do. He's just hanging out there, suspended in darkness with images flashing past him... taunting and cruel. With a sigh, he grabs a gun and some silver bullets. He needs to block out everything and the best way he knows how is to partake in a hunt. Without saying a word, he pushes a second gun in Castiel's hands and grabs a couple silver blades. He drags the former angel out of the room, eager to track down the werewolf tormenting this town.

Gabriel appears in a building he's familiar with, one he's been in before when visiting the goddess of love and beauty. It's a dating service she's called 'Cupid's Arrow'... quite appropriate considering the circumstances. There's a bar along the wall littered with dirty glasses, multiple round tables made for two in a close encounter, and a large heart shaped rug on the floor. On each table is a centerpiece with a candle floating in water, the glass bowl surrounded by rose petals. It's a very beautiful place that screams budding romance. A blonde woman is cleaning off the tables, wiping them down as she hums to an old Grecian tune only she knows. Without even turning around, she sighs heavily.

"If you insist on bothering me, Loki, you might as well make yourself useful," she calls over her shoulder. "My guests were much messier than usual... probably knew you were coming."

"Funny, darling," Gabriel snorts. "Oh so funny."

He grabs a wet rag and wipes down the nearest table, watching the buxom woman move about. She's perfect, like a super model, and has an hourglass shape. Her skin is flawless and practically glowing, her eyes a brilliant green like the sea, and her long blond hair is let loose to drape over her shoulders. There was a time Gabriel would've faced the god of war to warm her bed... but that was before Sam stumbled into his life.

"So, what brings you to my door?" she wonders.

"You paid a visit to two friends of mine, I'm sure you know which ones I speak of," he comments conversationally.

"Of course, who wouldn't. Men as sexy as that are a sin I'm __sure__ to be drawn to," she smirks impishly. "Then again, you knew that. If you didn't, you wouldn't have died for them."

"I know you were ordered to mess with them," he says. "And I'm sure I know by whom... but I'm not positive. I've also recently found out that Kushiel was more than eager to put a wrench in your efforts concerning Castiel and Dean."

It's instantaneous, the dark shadow that covers those once calm eyes. They churn wickedly like the ocean during a horrible storm, her ire obvious within them. Gabriel says nothing, allowing her to calm the hurricane of anger within herself. He knows better than to rile her further and what he has to say isn't about to settle her wrath. He's known her a very long time, they've been close friends for as long as he can remember. She loves mingling with humans, took to life amongst them far better than the other gods and goddesses, and can be found bringing them love often. When she gets angry, however, it's no less wrathful then all those myths about her within Greece and Rome. Finally, she draws in a soothing breath through her nose.

"Did it work?" she asks a bit sharply.

"... I think so. Kushiel sent a demon to hurt Dean... they possessed Castiel and raped him rather viciously. Dean says he's okay, but he's acting more tense and hesitant around Castiel. My baby brother notices it, it hurts him and he's blaming himself for Dean's attack."

"How __dare__ that low level piece of shit!" Aphrodite booms.

Her voice literally thunders within the area, glasses shattering all the way across the room. Gabriel looks up nervously as the chandelier shivers, readying himself to move out of the way should he need to. This woman isn't known for her patience. In fact, she's known for her tremendous wrath and spitefulness when someone gets on her nerves.

"Some winged bitch is trying to ruin _my_ _masterpiece_?" she hisses. "Oh she'll regret __ever__ crossing me! Trust me on that! When __she__ finds out what that fallen angel did to Dean, she'll make sure that bitch goes through the worst punishment possible!"

"... So I was right. She __was__ the one that brought me back," Gabriel frowns. "Aphrodite, what can you tell me about Dean's bond with Castiel? How did he get his Grace back from such a vial act?"

"A part of Dean saw him as what he is to him," she sighs as she pulls out a chair to sit. "The act was vial, that's for sure, but a part of him trusted Castiel even then. He knew it wasn't his friend that harmed him, he knew Castiel was fighting to save him... or at least _trusted_ that was happening. Another part of him happily invited the image of his friend and savior to be with him. My spell is absolute, Loki, you above _all_ know that. The end result is to connect intimately, to share all of yourself with the one I chose. That's basically what Dean did, he threw away all wariness and hesitation to be with Castiel."

"But it wasn't Cas..."

"It was, _physically_. And somewhere within his mind, Castiel was present at the time. Though he couldn't affect what happened and couldn't stop it... he was _aware_ and he felt and saw everything. They shared an intimate moment. Not exactly the overwhelming and heartfelt moment I wanted for them, but they'll get there eventually. It was an ironic move on Kushiel's part, though. Taking the one person that could comfort and protect Dean, and making him break him in such a ruthless manner. It certainly makes the healing process a little more difficult."

Gabriel sighs and sits down, propping his feet up on the table and folding his hand on his stomach. He allows her to get through her tantrum, careful not to get hit by shattering glasses as they pop like balloons. He's nervous, but who wouldn't be. As he first expected when he told Castiel when he would be back, this conversation is going to take a couple days.

Dean sighs behind the wheel of the impala, Sam reading in the passenger seat and Castiel nowhere to be seen. During their hunt for the werewolf, the older hunter was nearly torn apart and the angel held him for hours after smiting the creature with a vengeance. The force of his rage left scorch marks on the walls and floor of the alley they were in. It was the most terrifying and touching thing Dean has ever seen, yet Castiel only saw the fear in his eyes. Though he healed the green-eyed male, the weariness that had been piling up since his violation had him snoozing fitfully. Sam wasn't happy when they stumbled into the room later, the older brother crashing for a bit while Castiel fidgeted beside his bed.

No matter how much the angel tried, he simply couldn't get that sick feeling out of his stomach at the sight of Dean's fear. It would've been different had it been caused by the werewolf... but it wasn't. He decided to meet up with the two later, giving the brothers time to talk and letting Dean have a moment where he isn't reminded of his rapidly growing streak of misfortune. Unfortunately, all Dean can think about is the angel... which, in turn, reminds him of the attack. It's a vicious cycle, one that bites harshly even as it stirs erotic fantasies. Never has concentration been so difficult to grasp.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" Sam asks without looking up.

"Yes, I'm sure," Dean bristles.

"Well, if you don't get your mind on what you're doing we're gonna crash."

Dean looks to the road and curses, jerking the wheel to get back in his own lane. A semi-truck blares it's horn as it passes, a narrow miss. It hasn't been that long, isn't even near lunch, and this is already the third time the impala's drifted to the other lane. The older sibling's lack of concentration is going to get them killed. Though he doesn't know Dean is thinking about Castiel and all the pleasurable things that man could do to him, it's easy enough to tell he needs to clear his head before they crash. Sam sighs and sets his book aside, leveling his older brother with a steady no-nonsense gaze. It only takes Dean a few moments to crack beneath it.

"I'm not going to make you talk to me, Dean," Sam remarks. "I can only imagine what's going through your head right now. I would, however, like you to know that I'm here if you want to talk... I'll even get out the ice cream and a chick flick for you, okay?"

"You're an ass, Sammy."

"You _do_ realize how badly _Cas_ is taking all this, don't you? He's blaming himself, Dean! Every time you flinch away, every time you tense up when he's near, he can tell something is off. It's just more shit he wants to punish himself for! You need to get over it or talk it out, because I'm afraid he can't stand much more... he just might leave us, thinking that's what you need to get better."

"He won't do that," Dean mumbles. "I told him I didn't want him to leave. Family doesn't turn it's back on each other."

"How many times did _we_ leave one another for the greater good?" Sam states in a warning tone. "I'm just saying, Dean... You know how Cas can be sometimes."

Dean frowns and taps his fingers against the wheel in frustration. Normally, he'd put on his music or tease Sam until the other can't stand it... this time, however, he just doesn't feel like it. For the first time in a long time, he just wants silence. The realization that he's only hurting Castiel more is killing him, almost as badly as the torturous debate he's going through inside his mind. He has to do something and right now... he's sorely tempted to leave himself.


	8. Haunted Houses and Little Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another crisis, another hunt to forget it. This time it's provided by Charlie and she's meeting them in the town they're headed to. Worried about Dean's increasingly worse string of bad luck, Sam is reluctant to separate like they normally do. Dean is all too eager to get out and gather information on their target. They meet up with Charlie, who doesn't waste any time pulling Dean off to talk. Unlike Kevin, Charlie manages to get right down to the root of Dean's problem. She sets him straight like only a little sister can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my wonderful readers! I'm sorry I missed yesterday's update, I'm a horrible person T^T Anyway, Happy Belated V-Day! Here's your gift XD

Sam shields his eyes as he gazes upon the small town, the two searching for a place to stay while they're there. It's larger than the last, though not by much. Farmlands surround the place, corn standing tall enough to hide away anyone that darts between the stalks, and here and there are a few soy bean fields to break the monotony of obscured view. Kevin seemed a little upset at their continued absence from the bunker, however he understands why they need to go and merely wished them to hurry. He doesn't like being alone, likes lingering in town even less, and has been asking the boys to allow him to accompany them on jobs. They refuse, afraid he'll be harmed or targeted, however their resolve is slowly being worn down. That boy is a demon when it comes to persuasion.

"There's one!" Sam states suddenly.

Dean has to fight not to slam on the brake and send his younger brother into the windshield. Had he done so Sam, who's leaning forward to see better through the glare, would've surely met it. Instead, he pulls into the parking lot and finds an empty space near the building. It's large and holds two floors, the railings hand-carved and elegant, and large potted plants are set up to bring a calming ambiance. They head into the lobby to check in, Sam standing back as his brother talks to the woman behind the counter. Well... flirts with her more than anything. It gets them a good deal on a room, which he can't complain about.

"She told me these places are like a condo," Dean remarks as they head to the room. "We got the two bedroom suite, complete with kitchen, two bathrooms, and cable. Not that we'll be watching much television... but Cas should like it."

"And? How many beds?" Sam inquires.

"One in the main room, two in the second room," the green-eyed hunter remarks. "I know, I know... You can bang Gabriel in the main room. I'll be fine with Cas in the other one."

"You're sure?"

"Dude, I can take care of myself. Stop worrying so much, you mother hen."

Sam rolls his eyes as they step into the hotel room. Charlie is here this time, though they're not sure where at the moment. She's supposed to meet with them tomorrow. Today, however, the two need to get settled and go over the information she's sent via email. They split up and toss their bags in their respective rooms, rejoining within the living area and dropping down onto the couch.

Dean doesn't pick up his phone, which means he's not planning on calling Castiel himself. It tears him apart, the quarrel within his mind that demands that choice stand down vehemently. Fingers twitch to pick up the cell and dial the angel's number, yet they're ignored with a practiced ease that came with years of stubbornness. In a fit of nervousness, he's standing again and pacing the length of the couch before his brother. Sam sighs and makes the call for him, giving the angel their whereabouts. It only takes a blink for him to show up, habitually landing only a few inches from Dean. The hunter sucks in a sharp breath, yet doesn't move away.

It's nothing new that Castiel's sudden appearances when he was an angel were startling, no matter how many times they happened, so he doesn't think anything of it... especially considering it's been so long since he used such an ability. Dean's heart thrums in his chest as the hot breath upon his lips, swelling to a point he thinks his chest will burst, and he takes a step back. Those green pools drop slightly to stare at Castiel's lips, the angel's tongue peeks out to drag along his lips and wet them. The hunter almost groans at the sight, yet he's forced from his inappropriate musings by the angel's husky voice.

"I stopped by to see Kevin," he remarks. "He's doing okay, but he'd rather have our company."

"Yeah, I told him we'd go home once we finished this job," Sam sighs. "Dean needs some time to laze about anyway, I'm fairly certain he's thinking too much. Nothing good ever comes from that."

"I'm standing right here, you know that right?" Dean frowns.

"Charlie is here, she's meeting us tomorrow," the taller hunter states, ignoring his brother. "She sent us information on the next job, we're gonna go over it today. I think one of us should go around and question the people here about the house's history... that'll get us ready for tomorrow."

Castiel says nothing, sitting down on the couch beside Sam. For once, he doesn't turn on the television set to distract himself. His blue eyes are glued to the hunter that continues to pace, green eyes darting to and away from the angel's form. So many thoughts, so many places to begin... and a wavering pride that demands he forget about all these ridiculous and unfounded desires.

Dean offers to head out and ask questions, more to keep himself from thinking than anything, however Sam is reluctant to allow him out of his sight. It's not mistrust, but worry that fuels the idea's rejection. It's not received well, the older sibling immediately getting defensive at the thought he's being treated like a fragile flower. He's more capable than Sam gives him credit for, has been through worse in his own opinion... never mind the small voice within his head that shamefully admits he got off on his violation. That's probably what hurts him most. Not the person that did it or the way he was treated, not even the lies whispered in his ear with a feigned adoration that hid buckets of venom, but the fact he wished it never ended and maybe that it would happen again... the fact it was the most mind-blowing orgasm he'd ever experienced. The thoughts immediately drawing ire of which he's never felt, making every comment to leave him mouth twist in bitterness and self-hate. After a lengthy argument that ended with the green-eyed hunter leaving and slamming the door, Sam heads to the small breakfast bar that separates the living area and kitchen with the intention of turning on his laptop. He's used to Dean acting out when he's upset, however just once he'd like to win an argument with him.

Dean walks the streets quietly, having left the impala behind in favor of a bit of exercise. It's a nice clear day, scant amounts of fluffy white clouds overhead and the warmth of the sunlight washing over the world. The air is crisp and clean, holding the scent of baked goods and food depending on the store he passes by. He could grow to like this place if he weren't so damn distracted. Dean's mind is a jumbled mess, something he needs time and fresh air to untangle. He sighs and pulls out his cell phone, reading the text Sam's sent him. It's an address, the one for the house their job is at. His first stop is the museum, a small building holding the history of this town. He sighs and strolls in, searching for the curator in charge for the day. It smells musty, like old books or a tomb just discovered. Though it's clear there's a cleaning crew, it would seem a thin layer of dust clings to the objects and pictures like a decorative skin to show the authenticity.

"May I help you?"

Dean turns to see an elderly woman, white hair pulled back in a tight bun and glasses sitting on the end of her nose. He gives her a smile and steps over to her stooped form. Her clothes are old fashioned and she seems to get around rather well for a woman of her age, no doubt around her nineties. He's impressed she's still up and working.

"Hello, I'm a reporter for the Sunrise Gazette," he states. "We're doing a special for Halloween, but we haven't decided on the town we'll be featuring yet... so many haunted areas we had to start early."

"Perfectly understandable," she nods. "Which site has brought you here?"

"The Galloway Manor," he replies. "I believe it was turned into a hotel not long ago?"

"Ah, I know the place you speak of... tragic story there," she remarks with sadness in her tone.

"If you don't mind, I would love to hear it," Dean comments as he pulls out a tape recorder.

It's mostly for show, though it helps to replay the exact story later on. It was Sam's idea, as most of their role playing is... sometimes the older sibling wonders if his brother doesn't have some sort of kink. He himself has a thing for aggressive partners and a bit for bondage, though he's never trusted anyone near enough to indulge. Maybe that's what set him off during that abuse, a man he's always had a strong bond with having him tied up and helpless on a bed. He shivers at the thought and forces his mind to focus on the now. The woman is smiling at him, likely glad to have someone to talk to about the history of such a small town. It doesn't seem as though others are particularly interested past killing time and field trips.

"As always, or so it seems, the story starts with a young woman. Her name was Maggie Galloway, heiress to the estate. She fell in love with a man named Gregory Furrow, he seemed the well off gentleman to all those around him. As they began getting more serious, he began pressing the idea of marriage. She wasn't ready and his darker side was beginning to show. She was blinded by her her love and, eventually, she agreed.  They were married within a week. The first night within the manor, Gregory murdered his new wife within their bed. Those it was never proven.  Rumor has it he set it up so all evidence pointed to Maggie's ex-lover, so he gained all their assets, but her heart was missing from her body and no one could figure out why or where it went. They say her spirit haunts the manor, the place of her death, and punishes those that betray the people that love them."

Dean is quiet for a long time, his green eyes wide in shock and awe. The woman is an avid storyteller, which makes him wonder if she weren't an actress in her youth. Perhaps someone that frequented stages in small theaters. It's easy to see the sparkle lighting up in slightly dulled eyes, the fond smile the hints at memories of a fruitful youth. Her hands are expressive as well, moving sometimes subtly and sometimes in a wider arch. It's all fascinating and he suddenly wishes he brought a camcorder instead of a tape recorder. Finally, he murmurs a thank you and heads outside. It was more than he was hoping to learn, however there's still one more thing... Where is Maggie Galloway buried?

The library isn't far from where he is, the hunter hoping someone might know what befell the woman's body afterward. He tucks his hands in his pockets, strolling toward the building as he breaths deep the pine scented air. A couple passes by, giggling as they stare lovingly into one another's eyes. It makes him think of Castiel, though it's tossed away as quickly as it infiltrates his mind. There aren't many cars on the street, not moving anyway, and those that are sit quietly in wait of their owners. He catches sight of a police officer lounging near the convenience store. Dean waves in a friendly gesture, a crooked tilt of his lips appearing when the man tips his hat in greeting. It's a nice, friendly little town. He's just about to walk inside the library when his phone goes off, the hunter answering it with a roll of his eyes.

"Yes, Sammy?" he questions in exasperation.

"I just wanted to check in," Sam replies. "You know, in case you got yourself abducted again."

"Funny, bitch."

"What did you find out, jerk?"

"We've got a seriously pissed off woman on our hands," Dean sighs. "Not only did she get ganked on her wedding night, but it was a betrayal by the guy she married. She's making it her mission in afterlife to punish all those traitorous in their relationships."

"So... a spirit. We can handle that. Where's she buried?"

"I was just about to find out, I'll head back right after I visit the library," he informs. "Don't worry so much about me, I'll be there soon."

He doesn't give his brother time to respond, hanging up almost immediately. Without another word, Dean heads into the library. It seems so much bigger on the inside, two floors of bookshelves stocked to imploding with literature. It smells like the bunker, which leads to relaxation and a imitative feeling of safety. It's far more believable within the confines of the one place he calls home. The librarian is helping a couple teenagers at the computers, so he waits for her to finish. It doesn't take long, they're only having difficulty logging on. Once she notices him, he approaches her and mentions what he's looking for.

He's led to the backroom by the flirtatious woman, she's nice enough to pull up any articles that may have the Galloway tragedy in them. The green-eyed hunter knows she's attempting to attract him with batting lashes and revealed cleavage and, though he returns the coquetries without thought, he can't help but notice he's mentally pushing her away. Almost as though he's not attracted to her. He knows that's not the case, she's a bombshell built for the runway more than a library. She's just not... Castiel. A revelation that only serves to irritate him. He shrugs it off and sits down, scrolling through the articles carefully. Now is not the time to be dwelling on his shortcomings and obsessions, there's too much work to be done yet.

Sam is sitting with Castiel when Dean walks in, the taller brother standing quickly and hurrying to check him for injury. It's born of panic and worry more than necessity and ritual. Those hands pull at cloth and turn the shorter male around almost carelessly, searching for something that simply isn't there. Dean swats him away, not giving him anymore time to look him over. He's uninjured and he's not about to be treated with kid gloves. Sam backs off reluctantly, sending a glare toward his brother as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"So," Dean starts. "Maggie Galloway was cremated after her death, __however__... they never found her heart. Apparently, it was cut out of her body before the coroner received it. Everyone blamed the ex-lover for her murder, but there was rumor that it was her new husband. There was also rumor that he set her heart in a mason jar filled with liquids that preserve it, kind of like a trophy of some sort. His name was Gregory Furrow."

"That's weird... I looked up the husband's name, but got nothing after three years before he married," Sam remarks. "He must've changed his name or something."

Sam taps on the keys for a few minutes, hacking into a court's database. The sound of his fingers on the keys is the only one filling the room, as the television has yet to be turned on. Castiel has roamed over by now, curious to see what he's looking for. Dean already knows, he's looking for the legal document on the man's name change. In order to have married Maggie, he had to go through legal channels to do so. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have ended up with all that money and the estate. The angel stands only inches from him, their shoulders so close to touching he's tempted to lean toward the blue-eyed man. Though his mind is clearly drifting from his brother's work, slyly darting to give Castiel a side-glance, he manages to suppress the urge to jump when his sibling shouts out.

"Found it! His name was Terrance Killjoy before... uh... James Stranton before that, Dennis Corbin before that... a large variety of names afterward... and he was born a Terry Holmes. This guy's gone across country on a marriage spree, each wife wealthy and all murdered by ex-lovers on their wedding night. Coroners' reports all say the hearts were carved from their chests, never recovered."

"Creepy... serial killer?" Dean wonders.

"It would seem so."

"Great, let's find his trophy room and gank that spirit before she kills someone else."

"Within the property he received from his marriage to Maggie, there's an old workshop. It's far back in the woods and secluded for the most part, no doubt he took that over and demanded no one bother him there. While we're there tomorrow, I'll head that way and check it out."

Dean glances to Castiel, who's reading over Sam's shoulder quietly. His lips twitch into a frown before he looks away, his brows scrunching together in worry. He's tempted to leave, to go out and drink at the seedy bar down the street, yet can't bring himself to do so. Just as with the librarian, thinking of sleeping with anyone else brings an overwhelming urge to puke. Green eyes glance the angel's way again, silently cursing that sexy voice and those unfathomable blue pools. Sam seems to catch his brother's indecisiveness, sighing as he shuts down his laptop. Dean's been out all day and they're both hungry.

The trio heads to a small diner for dinner, a young redheaded woman hurrying toward them. She leaps and wraps her arms around Dean, the smile on her face bright and happy. Castiel's fingers flex at his side, uncertain who this girl is and why she's touching Dean so familiarly. His first thought is the Amazons, his blue eyes shifting over to take in Sam's reaction... he seems happy to see the woman. Vaguely, he realizes his angelic instincts are getting the better of him. He may not have been in the front seat when he claimed Dean, but it was still he that claimed him. Jealousy is beginning to get the better of the angel, his blue eyes hard as diamonds as he suppresses the urge to harm the woman touching what belongs to him.

"Charlie!" Sam grins. "I thought you were staying across town!"

"I am, but this place has the best food," she states. "I'm _so_ glad to see you guys! We _have_ to get together more often, this once every few months shit isn't working for me. So, Dean my love, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know... trouble, trouble, and more trouble. What about you?"

"Much of the same, only I'm positive I've nailed hotter girls than _you_ have," Charlie laughs. "Then again, who wouldn't want a piece of this fine ass?"

Castiel narrows his gaze, his confusion evident. He's heard of Charlie and he's read the emails and texts... but he's never met her before. Looking upon her now and seeing how she interacts with Dean, it draws questions and a level of jealousy he's not used to feeling. Although, that's not a normal emotion for him anyway. He pushes it away, ignoring the unfamiliar emotion easily. Instead, he pulls Sam close to whisper in his ear.

"I thought Dean's daughter was killed," he remarks. "Are you sure this one isn't his?"

"Positive," Sam chuckles. "And thank Artemis for that, I don't think the world could handle another Dean Winchester... whether male _or_ female."

Charlie joins them for dinner, sitting next to Dean at the booth table. He's against the wall and across from Castiel, avoiding eye contact with a bit of difficulty... damn those blue eyes! Even when he's not reading his mind, those blue pools seem to see right through to his core. It's unnerving and exciting at the same time. He shifts uneasily, clearing his throat as he stares at the burger and fries set before him. Charlie notices the uncharacteristic response from her friend, frowning a bit before glancing at Sam. The younger Winchester seems to know what's going on, however he says nothing about it. Finally, she comes up with the best suggestion she possibly can.

"Dean, I want to check out the store down the street," she states. "Come with me."

"... Why?"

"Because I said so, damn it! Now let's move, there's shopping to be done!"

Before he can refuse, she grabs his wrist and pulls him away from the other two. Sam doesn't even try to stop them, though Castiel sends them a questioning gaze. It's those large puppy eyes, so confused and struggling to make sense of the world again. Sam sighs and takes mercy upon the other, explaining Charlie's relationship with Dean... she's like their little sister, their little extremely aggressive sister. After she had helped with the Leviathans, they thought that was the last they'd see of her. Their job brought them together again, however, and she eventually started contacting them more often. She was eager to learn the trade, though they always kept her out of harm's way for the most part. Through all their time together, she's probably the best at dealing with Dean's inability to talk about his inner workings.

The store is filled with comics and graphic novels, something Dean can see Charlie tossing about in joy like a millionaire with his money. He smirks at the way the sight lights up her eyes. The redhead is a hacker and an extreme nerd when it comes to anything geek. That includes comic books, role playing games, fantasy movies, graphic novels, and everything else of the sort. She doesn't hurrying into them, however, but looks around the store carefully. There aren't many filling the aisles, which seems to make her happy enough. Finally, she drags him into the back and sits down on a comfy couch set there for readers.

"Okay, mister, you're gonna tell me everything right now," she remarks a bit forcefully. "Obviously you can't talk to Sam about it, so you're gonna talk to me."

"... If I can't talk to Sam, what makes you think __you're__ getting anything out of me?"

"Don't make me go Xena Warrior Princess on your ass," she growls out in warning.

It's not an empty threat, she's done so before. He never thought a petite female like Charlie could be so fucking scary, yet he got the picture and he's learned to just give her what she wants. Not only did she kick his ass, but she emptied all his alias's bank accounts and sent some rather embarrassing pictures all over the net. It took him weeks to get over it. Knowing what she's capable of and what she's likely to do if he doesn't bend... Dean sits down next to her.

"Okay, but this doesn't go beyond us," he states.

"Please, what are little sisters for if not to confide the most life altering secrets?"

"I've been having a rough week," he sighs. "I was kidnapped by a coven of Amazons who were keen on using me for a breeding dog... but that wasn't the worst. A demon possessed Cas and... well... tied me to a bed to have his way with me."

"Oh my god!" the redhead gasps. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Cas healed me. Apparently having sex with me got his angel mojo back," he mutters a little bitterly. "The worst part was, I didn't even _try_ to fight him. I __wanted__ to be with him. Then this demon starts spouting all this stuff... like it's Cas talking. I knew it wasn't, but... everything he said could've been true. That's what hurt the most, I think. I mean aside from the fact he was taking a knife to me at the time and I fucking __enjoyed__ it."

Charlie is quiet for a moment, watching the emotions play through Dean's eyes. She's always been good at reading him, almost better than Sam, and it's always been easier for Dean to talk to her. He knows deep down that it's because she's like the dominant part of himself... he could always talk to himself. She's patient... sort of... and understands on levels a male just can't. The fact he's basically calling himself a female in position terms doesn't escape his notice, the hunter cursing himself out mentally for the appalling thought. It still doesn't lessen the fact he's more likely to talk to Charlie than his younger brother. Speaking about this stuff with Sam is like going to your parents with personal problems... you'll just end up doing the opposite of what they tell you. Things only make sense coming from people outside the family. After that long moment, she takes in a deep breath to speak.

"You're an idiot," she comments.

"... I'm sorry, you must've missed the whole account of my pain and suffering."

"No, I heard. I also heard that it was a demon that did it and that you're head over heels for this Cas guy. Not that I blame you there, he's _totally_ fuckable. If I weren't into girls, you'd have a challenger on your hands."

"You can _have_ him."

"No... he seems into you," she remarks. "The way he looks at you and says your name... it's obvious. And _you_! It doesn't matter what happened between you because of that demon, you are so _transparent_ it's sad. You stare at him, you try to avoid eye contact but you just can't, you seem to undress him with your eyes when he's not looking... please, if a girl looked at me the way you look at him I'd have her against the wall in half a heartbeat!"

"You're not me," Dean frowns. "And I just... I can't love someone like that. Not that there's anything wrong with Cas, it's just..."

"You're stupid. That's the problem," Charlie waves off. "People have __killed__ to feel the way you do about someone and have them return it. You're a hunter, so what. You deserve to have love, too. Besides, it's not like he isn't aware of what you do. He knows, he seems to go along with it, and it's apparent to me he can take care of himself. What's holding you back?"

Dean is quiet for a long while, watching the as-a-matter-of-fact look upon Charlie's elven features. He's never really thought about that question before, no one's ever really asked him. Now that he's presented with it, he can't help but dwell on it. The answer strikes him like a blow to his stomach and falls from his lips before he can stop it.

"... I don't deserve to be loved by him. He's an _angel_ , Charlie. I'm just... I'm just a soul he pulled from Hell. I was there for a reason, you know. I'm not worthy of being loved by an angel."

"Ah... So you're blind __and__ stupid."

"Will you stop saying that!"

"It's true. You're throwing yourself a pity-party while the world is leaning on you for help. Who do __you__ lean on, Dean? You take care of everyone, but who takes care of you? It's obvious Cas tries his damndest, but you feeling so damn _sorry_ for yourself is only making his job _harder_ ," she comments. "He would _die_ for you, Dean. Even _I_ can tell that. But since you think you don't deserve what good things come your way, you're out there throwing yourself into danger. One of these days, he's gonna get between you and danger... and he'll likely die from it. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not!" Dean snaps. "But I just... I can't settle down like that, Charlie. I tried once before, it didn't work. She and her son were used as bait and she almost lost her life!"

"You tried to turn your back on everything you've been raised into, of _course_ it was gonna backfire on you. This guy, he's __always__ with you, not sitting at home waiting for a call," she snaps after hitting his forehead with her palm. "Think, Dean! I know you're smarter than this! Being with someone different every night is fun and all, but it'll never feel as good as being with the one person that makes your heart race for the rest of your life."

He's about to talk back, however she's finished for now. She spoke her piece and she's satisfied with the affect it's had. Without another word she's up and looking through the comics in the aisle they sit in front of, leaving Dean to either wait or follow. He wouldn't leave her there by herself, she knows him well enough to know that. He waits, a bit impatiently. Her words drilling holes within his head that let flow all the possibilities and doubts.

Sam and Castiel couldn't stand waiting at the dinner until they got back, the taller male knowing how Charlie can be on these little shopping excursions. Instead, they've been searching for the two. Sam is curious to know why the redhead swept Dean away so forcefully, though he can only imagine it was to talk in private. This isn't the first time she's done that, nor will it be the last. Castiel has been antsy since they left, worried about the green-eyed hunter and what this redhead might be doing to him. He had told Sam her attitude reminded him of an Amazon. It's true that she's aggressive, however he assured Castiel that she's just another human. Drawing her into the whole that is their misfit family brought all the joys of having a little sister, random abduction just happens to be one of them.

"He's in there," Castiel remarks.

"Ah, the comic store," Sam smirks. "How did I _not_ check that place first?"

"... I wasn't aware Dean liked comics."

"He doesn't, Charlie does. A place like this is her haven, she feels safe here. She probably brought him there so he would, too. Come on."

They enter the building and find Dean, he's leaning on the checkout counter as Charlie talks to the cashier. The woman is around the redhead's age, her brown hair in curls that frame her face and her large doe eyes set on her customer. Charlie is leaning over the counter, a coy grin on her lips as she shamelessly flirts with the slender female. Her 'older brother' is rolling his eyes, though they have the distinct shine of pride within them. If Charlie hadn't of saw the cashier first, Dean would've likely been the one hitting on her. When the hunter sees his two missing companions, he make a show of his feigned annoyance. He rolls his eyes a second time, this time dramatically as though he's praying. Sam laughs and heads over, patting his brother on the back.

Castiel doesn't approach them, instead taking in the many graphic novels silently. He's seen many books in his lifetime, yet he's never come across ones like these. Normally, books were created to store knowledge and scripture. These seem to hold only fantasies and pictures; it's new to him. One catches his eyes in particular, the angel reaching over to lift it into his hands gently. He flips through the pages with an air of curiosity, skimming a few lines before he notices a few people behind him. Sam is looking over his shoulder, Dean plucking the book from his hands.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he states in disbelief. "The second season? I thought Chuck died, how can this be on the shelves?"

"I said he disappeared and I could only __assume__ he died," Castiel corrects. "I could've been wrong. There are seven prophets, after all, and there was a very large chance that Chuck simply saw far more than we thought and only lost his abilities when Kevin gained his. After all, God works..."

"Dude, if you say 'in mysterious ways' I'll shoot you," Dean glares. "There was absolutely _no_ _fucking_ lesson I needed to learn beneath a mob of horny Amazons."

Castiel snaps his mouth shut, glad the other is at least talking to him again. He didn't mean to bring up such pains, he didn't think such a mundane expression would strike a nerve along those memories, however it would seem anything can trigger such outbursts. He'll have to be more careful until the hunter has stopped being so sensitive. Dean flips through the pages with a wrinkle between his brows, eventually grabbing one of each book in the series and heading over to pay. He and Sam bought the first season as well, just out of curiosity, and even looked through the fanfiction writing by fans. He'll never look at the internet the same again. They had a lot of Wincest in the archives that sent Dean spiraling down a deep pit of shock and disbelief.

"If you don't like them, why are you buying them?" Castiel wonders.

"Dean likes to see how Chuck writes us," Sam remarks. "You know... see our lives through the eyes of another and all that. We read the first season when we found it, even attended a convention devoted to us."

"That's... strange," the angel remarks.

"That's life," Dean comments on the way by. "Or at least... that's _our_ life."

He's already got his nose in the first book, Sam quickly pulling him so he doesn't run into the edge of the door frame. The quick jerk has him stumbling, yet he rights himself just as quickly. Trusting his sibling to get him back without a scratch, those green eyes never leave the pages. Charlie laughs at this, looping her arms around Castiel's before pulling him after the boys. She walks with them back to their hotel room, flopping down on the couch with Castiel and pulling out one of her purchases. Dean disappears into their room, laying down on his bed. Sam looks in on him and smiles; he looks like a little boy lying on his stomach with his feet kicking at the air.

"He'll be busy for a while," he chuckles. "Are you staying the night here, Charlie?"

"That would be awesome! Where am I sleeping?"

"I'll take the couch and you can have the master bedroom," Sam offers. "Loki isn't back yet and I don't feel right sleeping on such a large bed without him."

"Works for me!"

Their lounging time goes by quietly, wrought with reading either comics from Charlie's supply or the Supernatural series from Dean's, and then they're all getting ready for bed. Castiel is nervous walking into the room after Dean, afraid the other will have a mini break down and throw him out. He really doesn't want to hurt the hunter anymore, the green-eyed male deserves so much more then a constant reminder of his pain. His hesitance fills the room with a strange sort of tension, the other occupant glancing his way with a slight frown. He's in a tee shirt and sweat pants, though he normally likes to sleep in his boxers. Castiel wants more than anything to offer his bed to Sam, yet he knows the taller male will decline as politely as possible. He wants them to work things out, which means sticking them together at every opportunity.

"Get in here, Cas," Dean comments. "And shut the door behind you, okay? I don't like the light from the hall, it keeps me awake."

"You're okay with being here with me?" he asks. "I don't sleep anymore, you know. I could tell Charlie she can have my bed and stay in the living room."

"Just because you don't sleep doesn't mean you can't lay down and relax," Dean murmurs. "And I don't mind being around you, it's nothing new. I kind of... like it. Okay? Just lay down."

Casitel gives Dean a small smile, moving to sit on his bed. The hunter crawls beneath the blankets of his own, eager to get to sleep and praying he doesn't have any embarrassing dreams. He shuts off his bedside lamp, sighing in content as he forces his taut muscles to relax. He listens to the angel move about, getting comfortable after lying down, and then there's quiet. They're left in darkness, the angel turning to watch Dean sleep. It's a habit he picked up after rebelling against Heaven the first time, one he never really felt the need to break. His eyes, however, can be felt upon the back of the hunter. Honed instincts worked on since he was old enough to learn the trade working in his favor.

"Cas, are you watching me sleep?" Dean asks without turning around.

"... Does it bother you?"

"No, not really," the hunter admits quietly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Dean."

Dean snuggles closer to his pillow, sighing in content as he slowly drifts off. It bothered him before when Castiel watched him sleep, but right now... he feels safe and protected. Charlie was right, though he'll never admit it. Maybe it wouldn't kill him to take Castiel's feelings under consideration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any mistakes, I usually go through and fix them with the reread =( Today I got to a late start, so I really need to attempt brainstorming for the rest of my outline or my book is never going to get finished with the first phase. I hope there aren't many and they're not that bad. Until next time! XD


	9. Conventional Ghost Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for Maggie Galloway in on... or is it? Chuck's book series has a lifespan that rivals that of the Winchesters, a second series popping up although Chuck is nowhere to be found. The Winchesters find themselves in the midst of a convention dedicated to them once more, whether the readers know it or not. Dean is forced to face the opinions of the readers concerning his relationship with Cas... and Sam is forced to deal with his ex-wife, Becky. They push through in their hunt for a spirit they think is Maggie, finding shocking information down the way. Suddenly, the Winchesters would prefer to suffer the convention than this twisted hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not writing chapter summaries, I sort of like to surprise everyone. If you would rather have the summary, please just send me a message and I'll put one on. =) If you would just prefer I place any pairing warnings (for those that don't like certain pairings) I can do that as well XD

The next morning Charlie slams the bedroom door open and startles Sam awake, the taller brother falling to the floor in his surprise. It's not often that happens, but it's been happening more frequently as of late. With a sigh, he mutters under his breath. The carpet is soft, though it stills makes for a poor landing pad, and there's sure to be a bruise where an arm hit the coffee table. Not that bruises are a detrimental injury, that type is always easy to ignore... they've had enough of them. Sam kneels on the carpet, glaring at the energetic female as she skips over to the kitchenette. Her music is in and she's dancing about happily, far to energetic for the other. It used to be a daily ritual when she worked at a well established corporation, before it was overrun with leviathans anyway. He sighs and gets up, grabbing his blanket and folding it up. He sets it on the back of the couch just in case he has to use it later. Charlie may have only planned to stay the night, yet she's likely to stay until they leave. If not by her own volition, then for the fact the boys are adamant there's safety in numbers.

"You're peppy this morning," he mumbles.

"Yep!" Charlie replies as she starts making breakfast. "I can't _wait_ for this mission! I have _so_ much fun helping you guys out!"

"You better stop right there, Charlie, Dean doesn't like people messing around in his kitchens," Sam remarks. "He might have a mini breakdown or something."

"Like I care. By the way, you should probably wake them up or something, don't you think?"

"Cas doesn't sleep," Sam waves off. "He'll hear us moving about and wake Dean."

Castiel does hear them moving around in the kitchen, but he's not sure if he should be the one waking the green-eyed hunter. Though he seemed okay with them sharing a room, Castiel is certain seeing him when just roused from slumber will only pour salt on his wounds. It's a reaction the angel certainly doesn't want to go through, just seeing the slightest amount of fear in green eyes is enough to tear his heart to shreds. Instead he sits on the edge of his bed and watches the hunter. Lips are slightly parted in sleep, one arm thrown over those gorgeous eyes, and that lithely muscled frame is stretched all over the bed. It's a fetching sight, one Castiel has grown to like watching. Every subtle movement, whether a slight tensing of muscle or a wash of relief that affects the whole person, is caught by his attentive gaze. He sighs and sets blue eyes on Dean, the hunter moving to hug his pillow as he snoozes. It's cute, he can admit that. With a deep sigh, the angel gets up and walks the very few steps to the other bed. He reaches out and gently shakes Dean awake.

"Mm... five more minutes," he mumbles.

"Dean, everyone is awake," Castiel remarks softly. "They'll want to get ready for this job as soon as possible... would you like that I get that redheaded girl to..."

Dean is sitting up in seconds, scrambling out of bed and tripping over his blanket in the process. Castiel smirks as the other rights himself as though nothing happened. It takes so much not to laugh out loud at the limber male, the angel simply biting the inside of his cheek to prevent it. Dean is obviously less than shy right now, too eager to get dressed and stave off the wrath of Charlie. He barely acknowledges Castiel, who sits quietly on his own bed. The brunette angel watches as the hunter gathers some clothes and heads into the bathroom to shower, exiting the room afterward to join the duo chatting in the kitchenette. The conversation is light and doesn't pertain to hunting in the least, staying comfortably around the news and weather with a hint of recent activity. He can easily see how the redheaded female must've slid right into a spot with the brothers, she's so much like them and yet so different that it just seems right for them to be siblings.

"Morning, Cas," Sam smiles. "Did you... well... never mind."

"I relaxed just fine last night," Castiel offers. "And Dean slept rather well."

"You watch him sleep?" Charlie asks in something akin to a coo. "That's so creepy, but so fucking sweet in a way."

"He's taking a shower right now. I asked if he wanted me to have you wake him, but he moved much faster than usual at the question. You have quite the effect on him."

Charlie grins at the compliment, thanking Castiel and dividing the eggs she made between three plates. Sam told her Castiel didn't need to eat anymore and likely wouldn't want anything, which she explains to the angel. He only nods and asks for a cup of coffee. As she hands him one, Dean heads out of the bathroom. He's dressed and ready, yet looks anything but awake. He's handed a cup of coffee as well and Charlie starts another pot for the road. He sits and stares at the counter for a long while, just trying to force himself awake. He can feel the heat rising off of Castiel, who sits beside him rather contently. It does nothing for the memory of erotic situations from last night's dreams. He could've died happy in his sleep at that dream, Castiel above him and their bodies entwined in ecstasy that threatened to make his heart explode. It was so damn good and so damn wrong, yet his brain happily points out it's all he wants. He shakes the thoughts from his head, clearing his throat and taking a large gulp of the hot coffee.

"So, when are we leaving?" he wonders.

"As soon as we finish breakfast," the redhead smiles as she sets a plate in front of him. "Eat up! I made it specially for the only men I'll ever love! My exceptional adopted brothers!"

Dean rolls his eyes, yet pulls the plate over to dig in. Sam says nothing, but there's a huge smile on his lips. He likes the idea of having a little sister, especially one that isn't out hunting all the time. As they eat, Castiel keeps his blue eyes on the counter top. He isn't sure what to say, he hasn't interacted with Charlie as much as the brothers have. She's aware of his hesitation, she always seems to see just as much as the angel does if not more. It's a curious thing to the redhead, to see an angel that's so hesitant to interact with a human. It's likely that it's not the first time he's been around humans, however the Winchesters don't have a lot of people they hang around as friends or family... maybe that's the problem. He doesn't want to chance insulting her and pushing them away. The thought is touching and almost has her pinching his cheek affectionately. Instead, she takes in a breath and dives into the beginnings of loosening the angel up.

"So, Castiel," Charlie offers. "Dean told me you were human for a bit, how was that?"

"... Difficult," he answers truthfully. "I got along well thanks to them, however there were times when I wanted to give up. Kevin was a great companion, he helped me with a lot of things I was keeping inside. It felt good to talk to someone."

Dean looks almost hurt from the comment, which tells Charlie he _wasn't_ the one Castiel talked to. She doesn't have much she can ask the angel, the boys didn't tell her much about him, yet she can tell he's feeling put out by her presence. It's not something she intended to happen. She decides to tell him about herself, hoping he'll open up about himself as well... but that sort of backfires. He has so many questions and her life seems to honestly fascinate him, so she keeps on talking. It humors the boys, who quietly eat their food and listen. The expressions that pass along Castiel face enough to keep them occupied, so in awe at the female it completely drowns out his normal confusion and puppy eyes. Pretty soon, it's time to go and they pile in the backseat of the impala to continue their conversation.

The mansion looks haunted, the ivy having overgrown along the walls and the window covered in darkness. It isn't hard to tell something sinister happened in this place. Dean and Sam stare in awe as Charlie and Castiel join them. The angel frowns at the feeling he's getting from the place, though no one else can sense it, and the petite redhead at his side is grinning. They catch the sound of voices nearby and look to one another, the brothers immediately scowling at their 'sister'. The sound is familiar to them and they've heard it only once before... it wasn't a great experience for them.

"Sam?" an all too familiar voice calls. "Oh my god! It __is__ you! I never thought I'd see you _here_ of all places, what brings you?"

Sam's face is pale, he and Dean whipping around to face none other than Sam's ex-wife. If you can even call her that. She had captured his love forcefully by using a love potion, though she had learned it was a cross-roads demon and not her friend that had given it to her. Thankfully, she decided against selling her soul to keep him. The two stare in complete and utter horror as she runs up to them, wrapping her arms around Sam as though they're still married. He sends a helpless and pleading look at his brother, who shrugs in return and smirks. Though he wasn't happy about the deception in the past, it's always fun to watch Sam try to get out of something without being rude.

"I missed you so much!" she says excitedly.

"Becky! I... didn't miss you at all," Sam sputters out in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"The second season of Supernatural came out!" she says happily. "The convention is being held here since the last place turned into a freaky supernatural trap of some sort. What are you guys doing here?"

"We're on a job," Castiel comments. "This place is a freaky supernatural trap as well."

"But we're gonna change that," Charlie offers quickly.

Becky just stares at the redheaded girl, a frown touching her painted lips at the sight of her. There's obvious jealousy and anger within her eyes, an accusation that remains unsaid but readable all the same. Sam knows what's wrong with this picture... he and Dean had refused to take her on hunts before and now Charlie is there with them. With a sigh that clearly tells the angel he's at his last straw, Sam and Dean pull their two companions toward the house. Unfortunately, their past leech follows. Just as all those years ago, she remains persistent and oblivious to the feelings of others. It's annoying and it takes everything in their arsenal of rapidly depleting patience to ignore her.

Upon entrance to the mansion turned hotel, their jaws drop in both shock and amazement. Just the hall is the size of a ballroom, multiple sitting areas strewn about and a check-in counter on the wall across from the door. The place is so ornate and expensive looking, they're tempting to hold their breath in case the oxygen within it is above their price range. The building is filled with people in costume, Castiel's eyes following curiously as they pass. So many people are dressed as Dean and himself, yet none of them really look like them. He looks to Charlie, who smiles widely at the sight of cosplayers. She seems in her element and he's glad she's with them, because he has no clue what's going on. A little more comfortable with the female that seems far more understanding and patient than the hunters he's grown used to, he leans over to get a bit of information on this human custom.

"Why are they dressed like us?" he asks.

"They think you're all fictional characters," she replies. "They're such big fans of yours, that they try to imitate you as best they can. I would've dressed up, too, but I wanted you guys to be able to find me in the mass of characters."

A couple of people dressed as Dean, Sam and Castiel pass and send the group a strange look. Their eyes seem to study the trio, looking them up and down with a skeptical gaze. Castiel immediately tilts his head in question, his brows scrunching in that well known expression of confusion. The one dressed as him does the same, though it's hardly like looking in a mirror. The expression is off and can't seem to settle on the perfect spot, something Charlie can't help but mutter 'amateur' upon seeing. Dean is beside the angel, who's expression has changed to those large puppy eyes. Still so many questions lie within the pools of brilliant blue. The costumed individuals stop nearby and begin to talk to each other, sending glances at the group none too subtly. Finally, Dean turns to face Castiel.

"Okay, Sam's gonna head out and see if he can find that shed," he comments. "He wants us to stay together and search for the ghost. We need to know who it is, there's a chance it's not the _victim_ but the _attacker_. Once we figure out how to draw them out, we need to do it... no matter what it might be. Got it?"

"Of course," Castiel answers. "Should we send Charlie with Sam? Or do you feel confident enough to allow her to tag along with us?"

"She knows enough to stay safe," he murmurs. "Let's get going."

The trio that was watching them is approaching now, smiles on their faces. Dean hesitates and Sam is blocked by them as he tries to leave. The brothers sigh, catching the impending comments they've already gone through before. It isn't hard to tell what those grins mean after going to the first convention... they think the group is role playing their characters. Charlie frowns and crosses her arms over her chest, regarding the trio carefully and with a hint of scrutiny on a cosplaying level. Though she's already deemed them amateur, there seems to be more for her to pick apart viciously.

"Wow, you guys are really into your roles!" one comments. "And that __voice__! How did you get Castiel's voice so right on?"

"... I _am_ Castiel," the angel says in confusion. "Why wouldn't I sound like me?"

"Yeah, of course... you're Castiel. Sorry, I didn't realize you were so in character. So, I see you guys caught the tension between Dean and Castiel, right? I mean, how could they be so stupid to not see how much they care about one another? You two are really good at this!"

"No kidding," the Sam imposter grins. "You give me chills! I'm just waiting for one of you to jump the other, just like when I read Supernatural. They're always practically undressing each other with their eyes, it's easy to tell with the way they're written. You should join the contest!"

"In my opinion," the Castiel impersonator says, "Castiel is the one that needs to do something about it. Dean just seems to be the more submissive of the two, he won't step forward unless the object of his affections does so first."

During this conversation, Dean's eyes have continued to grow to the size of saucers. His mouth his slight agape, disbelief and utter denial written all over his features. Sam is snickering beside him, grunting in pain when his humor is met with his brother's elbow. Charlie snorts in playfulness as the older sibling grumbles to himself, the hunter gripping Castiel's wrist and pulling him away from the group. The angel says goodbye to the strange humans dressed up as them, catching a bright blush dusting Dean's cheeks. He doesn't understand why, but Charlie seems ready to give him answers and he invites her to do so once she catches up.

"What were they talking about?" he asks.

"Nothing," Dean snaps. "Nothing at all, they're just _stupid_ people who read too much into _stupid_ stories and make _stupid_ assumptions!"

Charlie pulls Castiel away from Dean, offering to give him time to cool off. They head to speak with the guests while Dean moves to talk to the man behind the hotel's counter. Once she's sure they're far enough away, she begins to explain the complications written between their characters in the Supernatural book series... and how it reflects the reality the book was written from. Needless to say, Castiel is speechless afterward. He had always felt something between them, knew something was going to grow, yet always assumed Dean wouldn't give up his lustful ways to acknowledge it. To think he had felt it on some level this whole time is astounding.

Dean rejoins them and Charlie can tell he saw something disturbing just by the look in his eyes. She's tempted to ask, yet Castiel is nice enough to point it out before she can. She turns her green eyes onto the image of two cosplayers making out in a corner... one dressed as Dean and the other as Castiel. Their hands are everywhere, the one dressed as the hunter pinned by the angel. Their hips buck along the length of the thigh pressed persistently between his legs, his lips opened in a quiet moan. The sight has the actual hunter dumbfounded and uncomfortable, though she knows it's likely because he's thinking how it would feel, and Castiel can only watch in shock. She can't help the laughter that erupts that moment, scolding herself afterward when she's reminded of Dean's attack. This could possibly remind him of that more than his emotions for Castiel, though the chance of that is slim enough to not exists at all. Still, it's best to play it close to the vest with the other. There's no telling what might trigger flashbacks of his rotten week.

"Sorry," she murmurs.

"It's okay," Dean sighs. "Let's just find this spook and gank them so we can leave, this place is creeping me out."

They agree, heading into the halls as Dean pulls out his phone. He dials up Sam and gives him the same story the hotel manager gave. It's not much different from what he learned at the museum, yet gives some specifics on the more recent attacks. They don't discriminate on gender or orientation, but the hearts are always ripped out. The victim is usually the one being betrayed as well, which is odd for an avenging spirit of a woman. It could be because she wants them to suffer as she had, maybe because she thinks death to be a release from that pain. Either way, things aren't laying out the way they had thought they would.

"I'm at the shed now," Sam informs. "I'm gonna have to break down the damn door, the locks are too rusted to pick. Find that spirit, Dean. I don't want to cause trouble by burning down a building if it's not gonna end this."

"Yeah, yeah. We got this."

Sam hangs up and kicks in the door with a couple well placed blows. A fog of mold and dust flows out, the younger brother gagging on it. No matter how many times he does this, he'll never get used to that onslaught of smell. He waves a hand before him, attempting to banish the stink, and carefully steps into the dilapidated building. The floorboards creak beneath his weight, the entire place groaning at the feel of a breeze. It's a large study, books with yellowed pages laying about the long table that sets against the wall and more sitting in bookcases... most likely exactly as Gregory had left it all those years ago. It's no wonder no one has bothered with this place before, what with all the locks and how far away it is from the main house. There really isn't much use for it, not even for storage, and there are far more better kept buildings set closer to the mansion to use.

Sam glances over a few of the books, yet there isn't anything strange about the reading material. With a sigh, he starts looking through the cabinets and anywhere else someone can hid something. He has to use his imagination for this part, as there aren't that many obvious places to check. After a long while, he growls in irritation and kicks at the rug. The corner flips up and reveals a cellar door, which wasn't mentioned in his studies of the estate's buildings. It must've been built secretly by Gregory, who oversaw the construction... it was a gift from his girlfriend at the time, who was eager for him to move in with her a month into their relationship. Curiously, Sam lifts the hidden cellar door and coughs at the dank and musty smell. He calls Dean before searching for a flashlight.

Dean is just exiting one of the bedrooms with his small group when his phone rings. They've been all over the manor turned hotel, yet haven't seen a hint of the spirit they've come for. There have been a couple sightings, the group just close enough to arrive before anyone is killed. Needless to say, this convention is beginning to go downhill like the last one rather quickly. With a grumble of frustration, he hits the button to answer Sam's call.

"Tell me you got something," he states in irritation.

"How about a hidden cellar that wasn't on the building sketches?" Sam questions.

"Don't go down there on your own, Sammy," Dean states seriously. "Something bad __always__ happens to us when we go somewhere on our own. Trust me, I just finished reading the second season of Chuck's damn series last night. It's pretty obvious when you're looking from the reader's point of view."

"I need a flashlight anyway. How are things going there?"

"Well, it's attracted to Dean and Castiel look-a-likes," he informs. "Charlie says our best bet of luring it out is to start making out with each other... but I'm hoping we come across something else."

"Dean, sit down and pucker up! I need to know who this spirit is!" Sam snaps. "Stop being such a wuss and take one for the team!"

The shorter hunter gasps and works his mouth for a response... one never comes. Finally he just hangs up, worrying his bottom lip as he thinks about his options. Unfortunately, he only has one and he knows that. He's the one that said 'no matter what' and Castiel hasn't pushed him on the idea, he's just been waiting patiently for Dean's next plan. It isn't that the thought isn't appealing... it's the fact it is. There's a chance if they begin stopping won't be easy and he doesn't want to be embarrassed like that. With a reluctant sigh, he grabs the angel and pulls him into the first empty room they come across. Charlie is right behind them, a gun loaded with salt rock hidden in her boot and an iron fire poker she picked up from the fireplace in one hand. She's there to banish the ghost once it shows it's face.

"Okay, Cas," Dean says with a deep breath. "We're gonna have to go with Charlie's plan, do you mind?"

"No. If it'll help, I don't mind at all," the angel replies. "Although... which one of us will be attacked, do you think? I would like to know if I need to guard you or not."

"I'm pretty sure it'll go after Dean," Charlie comments. "It's been going after the half of the couple that was betrayed and, thanks to that damn demon, that half is Dean."

Though Castiel seems a bit perturbed by that, he says nothing more. Dean searches for a good spot that won't leave him open to attack, with a spirit it's difficult to tell where they're coming from... especially if there's a wall behind you. In the end, they go for the bed and Dean straddles Castiel's lap as he sits against the headboard. Charlie stays near the door, locking it tight and holding the fire poker like a bat at the ready.

Dean is nervous, yet he takes in a couple calming breaths and leans forward to kiss Castiel. He keeps reminding himself mentally that he's only doing this for the job, that's it. His lips are soft against the angel's, his hands hesitantly twining in brunette locks, and he can feel their heartbeats as Castiel pulls him flush against his chest. One of Dean's hands leaves the angel's hair and presses against a chiseled abdomen to keep his balance, the other licking his lips unconsciously. Dean gasps and Castiel's tongue slips into his mouth. It surprises the hunter, yet he goes with it. He's uncertain if it's because of want or necessity at this point. Castiel yanks on Dean's hair, though not hard enough to hurt, and draws a moan from the other. The hunter makes a mental note to block the porn channels when they get home, this angel learns _far_ too much from watching them. It's kind of difficult to hate what's happening when he's being felt up so expertly.

Charlie is blushing, yet she doesn't drop the fire poker in her hands. It's a good thing, too, as an image flickers to life just behind Dean. It's not a woman, not the victim, but a man that most likely killed those women. He draws his hand back to drive it into Dean's back, just behind his heart, when the redhead rushes forward and takes a strong swing. The tip of the poker scrapes along Dean's shoulder blades, causing him to gasp and lean further into Castiel. With a frustrated holler, the ghost vanishes. Dean pulls away from Castiel shakily, a hiss leaving his lips as he reaches to check the damage. He's glad for the distraction from his lust fogged mind, the weakness in his limbs from such breathtaking kisses forgotten in the face of pain.

"Sorry," Charlie says in worry. "I didn't mean to hit you."

"It was just a scratch," he assures with a hint of gratefulness. "You did good, Charlie. Did you get a good look at the ghost?"

"It was a man," she nods. "He was definitely going for your heart."

"Let's go meet up with Sammy," Dean sighs. "I'm sure he's grabbed the flashlight already, but we should get one just in case."

Charlie pulls a light from her back pocket, grinning like a child that's made their parents happy for the first time. It's a bit funny that the amateur is the one that's well prepared. The brothers are just so used to having the impala nearby in case they're in need of something, that they simply don't think to bring more than the bare necessities on their person. Dean smiles, jumping a bit at the feel of a hand between his shoulder blades. There's a warmth flooding through him, and then the pain is gone. He glances back to see Castiel looking to the floor, carefully sliding from beneath Dean to stand up. It surprises the other that he would waste energy on a small scratch, though he's certain it broke the skin somewhere. He mumbles a thank you and climbs off the end of the bed.

They don't take much time to get out the front door, dodging cosplayers looking to watch Dean's flawless interactions with Castiel... the hunter curses those loudmouth people from before. The last thing he wants is to be forced to see just how intimate their every interaction was in the past. He read the damn books, he doesn't need any further confirmation on that. When they get outside, Charlie leads the way toward the hidden shed. She had looked over the maps of the grounds with Sam that morning, so it's location is easy for her to find. They're stopped by the blonde from before, though, her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her features. They didn't even get halfway there.

"Becky, I don't have time for this!" Dean snaps.

"Why are you taking _her_ on your hunts and not _me_?" she demands

"Because she's not a psychotic ex-wife that forced my brother into marriage with a love potion!" Dean hollers. "Get out of our way!"

"But..."

"Becky! Not now!" he shouts. "If we simply __must__ have this pointless conversation, let's sit down after we gank the ghost trying to rip the heart from my fucking chest!"

She's stunned into silence long enough for the group to hurry past, though Dean knows this conversation is far from over in her opinion. They'll just have to get to the impala before she gets to them. Castiel looks back at the blonde, his puppy eyes showing sadness for her and also confusion as to the interaction. Dean is never easy to get along with and normally gets frustrated easily when his joker's mask cracks, however he's never gone off on anyone like that that wasn't Sam or Castiel. Then again, it was revealed that she was deceptive in winning Sam's heart... perhaps she deserves the hunter's lack of patience. He knows if she did the same with Dean, this might be far kinder than what _he_ would do to her.

Charlie doesn't let him fall behind, holding onto his coat sleeve as they hurry forward. She noticed his hesitation, unwilling to lose him to his own thoughts. She was told of Becky before and has little like for the woman, her ire just as strong as Dean's when her name is mentioned. The last thing she'll allow is for Castiel to show her pity. This was brought on by her own foolish and selfish actions.

Sam is sitting outside, vexation easily read upon his features. When he sees the others running toward him, he stands and grabs the duffel containing all their tools for such a job. He made a stop at the car to gather them after finding the cellar door. On the way, he had to dodge a large number of people attending the convention. The afternoon is growing dark early, setting the mood for another fake hunt that will likely have many injured or dead. It's best to finish this before that happens. His hopes to end this are lifted upon seeing the others approaching, his body shifting to enter the buildings again. At the look upon his companions' faces, however, he hesitates when turning back to the small workshop. Charlie is the first to reach him.

"It's Gregory!" she shouts. "Gregory is the spirit killing everyone!"

"I brought your laptop," Dean offers as he hands it over. "See if you can find out what the hell happened to his body before that thing ganks the guests."

Castiel and Charlie keep watch in case Becky followed, the two brothers searching for any news on Gregory Fallow's remains. Time seems to move by far too slow as they wait, a flickering image appearing behind Dean and only seen by Castiel. The angel immediately grabs the poker from Charlie, throwing it like a javelin. The action is sudden and unexpected, everyone stilling in complete shock and confusion at his movement. Dean gasps, shutting his eyes, and the weapon sends a gust of displaced air to kiss his cheek. It buries itself in the workshop wall deeply, the ghost crying out as it passes through him. He vanishes and Dean dances around Sam to stand near Castiel and Charlie... mostly Castiel, though he hates to admit it to himself.

"What the... a little warning next time, Cas!" Dean comments in shock.

"Had I waited, you would've been dead," he points out.

"It's true," Charlie agrees. "I wouldn't have warned you had it been me... although... I probably wouldn't have had such awesome aim either."

"Guys, I found something," Sam remarks, interrupting the impending quarrel. "Look! Gregory dated multiple times with the same result, his last marriage was to an Ariel Cove. Their wedding was quite a few years after Maggie's murder, but... it says here that he left her that night and no one heard from him again. He was in his late thirties early forties at the time of his disappearance."

Dean skims the article carefully. Ariel's statement says that they arrived home after the wedding that morning and Gregory headed to the workshop, after a few hours she had gone in to tell him lunch was finished. Gregory didn't like people in his workshop, yet Ariel felt that as his wife she was an exception. She told the police that he was gone and didn't even leave her a note to explain. The next article states that she was remarried a few months later, didn't even wait for her husband's return to get the annulment.

"Wow, what a piece of work."

"The last place he was seen was here," Sam says. "We might as well check the cellar while we're here, it couldn't hurt anything. You guys have a flashlight, I couldn't find the one in the impala?"

"I do!" Charlie smiles. "But I'm going with you."

The boys sigh in reluctance, waving her closer so they can enter as a group. The place is still and quiet, sending a shiver through the redhead. She moves closer to the Winchester brothers, staying between them with only the fire poker Castiel saved from the wall as a weapon. The gun from before is now in the back of Dean's waistband, having been handed over insistently after the ghost nearly killed him in the hotel. Sam shows them the hidden cellar door, lifting it once more and heading down first. Charlie is next, followed by Dean, and then Castiel. The cellar is filled with wine racks and large barrels of the homemade substance, likely still fermenting to this day and long forgotten. Castiel and Charlie take one side of the room, the boys the other.

Charlie runs her finger along one of the racks, grimacing at the amount of dust she picks up. She wipes it off on her tight black jeans, sending the beam of her flashlight along the wall. As orderly as this place has been left, it holds the hint of disarray in areas. A knocked over bottle here, a pile of rags there... just simple things that don't seem to add up. As she moves past an opening between the wine and a table with only an oil lamp on it, she stops at a strange coldness there. It sends a shiver along her spine, one of both cold and unwarranted fear.

"Cas," she hisses in a whisper. "Come here. Do you feel that?"

"... It's a breeze," he remarks in surprise. "It's coming from the wall."

"Maybe there's a secret door there, try and find something to open it."

He sets his hands on the wall and pushes, using his angelic strength for the first time since regaining his power. The stones grind as they're forced open, revealing another room. It's much darker and more eerie than the wine cellar, holding a large set of shelves in the back filled with mason jars. Charlie calls the brothers over before stepping inside. She's drawn to the shelves, which reach to the ceiling and stretch the length of that wall... there has to be over fifty jars there. She shines the light from her flashlight over them, shrieking at the sight of the contents. Immediately, she's hiding her face in Castiel's chest. The action draws a spike of jealousy from Dean, though it's stomped down mercilessly at the reminder that this is _Charlie_ he's talking about.

"What's wrong?" Dean asks, ignoring the need to pull Cas closer to himself.

"There are __hearts__ in there!" she shouts frantically. "Fucking __human__ _hearts_ in preservation jars! What a fucking sicko! Who __does__ shit like this?"

"Apparently, Gregory Fallow did," Castiel provides helpfully. "These must be the hearts of his wives. Look, they have dates on them and names. He must've been keeping them as trophies."

"There are _way_ more than just his wives, Cas. See? The first one says 'Helena Holmes: mother', he would've been around ten when he killed her. And these must be the foster mothers he went to. If he got out of the system at eighteen, there has to be a jar or two for each year here. I'm _shocked_ he didn't get caught before his disappearing act."

Sam is right, there are at least ten jars between his mother's death and what has to be his eighteenth year. Each one marked with a name and the title of mother, every curve of the words written meticulously and almost lovingly. They look through the disturbing collection, noting the girlfriends and fiances that also make up his collection. So many, he had to of taken at least three or four per year. It's ridiculous to think he could get away with so many murders with the same MO and not be figured out. Dean frowns when the names of the latest victims, guests of the hotel, show up in newer jars near the bottom... the last one claiming boldly 'Dean Winchester' with today's date. He shivers and moves away, Castiel glancing his way before following. There's no way he's letting the green-eyed hunter out of his sight until this ghost is destroyed. Seeming to feel the protective and almost possessive air about the angel, the hunter migrates over to huddle at his side. Neither of them are aware of the sought after safety, both just happy to be near one another.

"Here's Ariel's jar," Sam points out near the table. "The label wasn't even placed on the jar yet."

"He must've been working on it when she came to find him," Charlie comments. "And let me tell you, if I were her and I saw this... he'd be one dead psycho."

Dean catches sight of something hidden beneath the staircase, his curiosity drawing him toward it. Castiel isn't too far behind, tense and ready for attack. Lying there, wrapped hastily in dusty cloth, is a hatchet. It would seem it's safe to assume Charlie's feminine response wasn't too far off... but what did Ariel do with the body?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! So exciting! I couldn't help throwing them into another convention, I thought Cas would be so freaking cute in a place like that XD I'm sorry for any mistakes, I'm sure there aren't many. I went through once more just to make certain. I probably hurried too much though, as I'm eager to write after not being able to yesterday XD I hope you all enjoyed the update! Until next time XD


	10. When Charlie Met Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning they're dealing with the spirit of a serial killer, they find themselves in Gregory's trophy room... filled with the preserved hearts of his loved ones. After ending the hunt with a close call, which is the only Winchester way known, the four head back to the hotel. There Charlie finally meets Sam's mate, Loki. Gabriel (Loki), also passes on the information he's learned from Aphrodite... Along with a story as old as Lucifer's fall.
> 
> WARNING: Character Death... but don't worry, it never lasts with the Winchesters ;p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, no one's said anything about the chapter summary, so I'm gonna keep skipping it. =) In case anyone hasn't figured this out, I'm new to this fandom. Mark of Grace is my first Supernatural fic =) God I'm so proud of myself T^T It's sad. Anyway, I have many lined up to be written and I'm working on two new ones right now! XD The first is 'Flawless', which is nearly complete. The second I just started and I'm not sure I'll keep the title, but for now it's called 'Angels Among Us'. That's the news from me XD
> 
> Now ON WITH THE FIC!!!!!!!!!!!

The room is getting chilly, the quiet moans of past victims slowly rising from the jars containing their hearts. It's like a scene from a horror film, the ghosts of those wronged suddenly rising from the graves to voice their need for vengeance. It sends a chill down Dean's spine and he unconsciously scoots closer to Castiel. It helps to be near his source of safety, yet not well enough to kill the wails screaming at him. Both Winchesters cover their ears, bending over in an attempt to rid themselves of the sound. It just gets louder, now shrieking within their minds. Castiel and Charlie look on helplessly, unaware what's going on. Charlie hurries to Sam and the angel's hands set firmly upon Dean's back, the two trying their best to draw them back. There's something wrong with the hunters, yet it seems no matter how loudly they're called to neither Winchester can hear their friends. By the time they're on their knees, the voices come to an abrupt stop.

"Sam!" Charlie shouts in his ear.

"Geez, don't scream in my ear," he hisses. "I'm not deaf you know."

"I've been calling to you for a while now, Sam," she frowns. "Both you _and_ Dean. What happened?"

"... You didn't hear it?" Dean asks in confusion. "How could you _not_ , it was fucking __loud__! All that screaming..."

"There was no screaming," Castiel comments in worry, one hand rubbing soothing circles on Dean's back. "It was silent as a grave here, you two were the only ones that heard anything."

Sam stares at them in disbelief a moment, yet knows they're telling the truth. He and Dean are the only two that seem shaken up from the experience. They both heard screaming, but different things were said to each. Dean heard the begging for help, to be released from the limbo the spirits are trapped in. Sam, on the other hand, heard the begging for lives before they're ended. They convey as much to the two watching them. Worry wrinkling the angel's brow as he makes a mental note to speak with Gabriel on it later.

"This place is _awful_ ," Charlie finally huffs. "I say we figure out where this asshole was stashed so we can get out of here. Are you with me?"

"Hell yeah," Dean mumbles. "Okay everyone, put on your thinking caps. If we were Ariel what would we do?"

"I told you," the redhead scoffs. "If I walked in on all this, having heard all those rumors about my new husband and seeing him writing my name on a label for these creepy jars, I would've _killed_ the bastard!"

"Okay, I'm Ariel," Dean states.

There's a long silence as Dean gets up from his spot on the floor, looks of skepticism and worry he lost his mind sent his way. He makes his way over to the stairs, shrugging off the childish gazes without a problem. The recent experience demands haste, begging for an exit as soon as possible. The sooner they get this over with, the sooner they can leave it all behind. He just wants to shove what happened into his 'never happened' chest within his mind and lock it away. His thoughts are interrupted when Charlie finally snorts in laughter, joined by Sam after a moment's hesitation. The shorter hunter glares at the two, catching a humored twitch to Castiel's lips. The peels of joy are silenced by the blushing hunter.

"Shut up," he snaps. "I meant in _theory_! One of us has to get in the mind of our unintended murderer. Now... I come out to find my husband."

There's more laughter at that, fanning the blaze of mortification upon Dean's face even more. One hand covers his green orbs in exasperation... so much for getting this over with quickly. One hand is on his hip, his foot tapping impatiently as he awaits the other three to calm down. They're not finished though, they simply can't let this go without a few well placed comments. Sam is the first to gasp out a teasing remark through his laughter.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Dean?" he asks. "I mean, I know you've always been fascinated by women, but I never thought it was because you were looking at a sex change."

"No it isn't a sex change," Charlie immediately states. "It's a _sexual_ __orientation__ change! He's finally coming out of the closet after years of checking out the same sex and hiding behind denial! I'm so proud of you, big brother!"

"And you guys call __me__ childish!" Dean snaps, grateful Castiel says nothing and gallantly attempts to hide his slight smile. "Now _as I was_ _ _saying__... I find the cellar door open and curiously go down the steps. There's a secret door ajar and I peek in... to find shelves filled with preserved hearts. I recall all the nasty rumors of Gregory and catch him jotting _my_ name on the next label. Obviously, I'm gonna freak out. But as I hurry out as quietly as possible, I catch sight of the ax and pick it up. Feeling a sense of vengeance for all those women that died by my husband's hand, I set out to stop him for good."

As he speaks, Charlie has her hands clamped over her mouth. She's trying hard not to laugh. Sam is smirking, yet says nothing to his brother. He's a ladies' man, or was before Castiel, and can charm the panties off any cold-hearted bitch. To hear him refer to someone as his husband, even in theory and pretending to be a woman, is just too much. The fact that Castiel refuses to join their mirth for the sake of the hunter's pride is almost touching in the eyes of the two, both exchanging a knowing glance at the sight. Dean steps down the two steps he had climbed as he goes through the motions, startling them from their musings, and pretends to pick up the ax. He moves over to the table where the label still lies beneath the dust, continuing on his verbal trek.

"While his attention is on his task, I sneak up behind him and raise the ax," he comments as he raises his pretend weapon. "I bring it down on him, which would explain the spatters of blood across the table.  Afterward, I continue to lash out until he stops moving... which would also explain these weird stains that must've been his blood.  Though, these patterns aren't consistent with a severed artery.”

They all look over the black marks on the cement, noting the hand print that lies just off to the side. There aren't many more, so Ariel must've fled for a while to clear her head. There aren't any bones, which would indicate she came back to better hide the body. How it could be better hidden than this is a question they're eager to find the answer to. After all, the wine cellar didn't hint to a secret room aside from the breeze.

"The article said that Ariel blocked off the workshop after Gregory left," Sam offers up. "She said it was falling apart and dangerous, that she would've torn it down but decided to let nature take it back. One would've thought she wanted a reminder of her husband, yet maybe she wanted to make it a tomb for all his victims instead. You know, so they'd be put to rest."

"If that's the case, why would she hide Gregory's body with his victims?" Castiel asks. "Wouldn't that be an insult to them? I would think she'd rather dispose of him in a manner that would insult _him_ more than his victims."

"I don't know," Charlie comments thoughtfully. "If I were her I'd want to humiliate the jerk and place him where his victims could watch his eternity of suffering. I'd keep him in the same room, not only because there's a better chance no one would ever stumble across him, but because those hurt by him could take solace in his death."

Sam agrees and they beginning searching for a place they would hide a body. Dean has made a circle around the room, stopping at the two huge distilling barrels on the one wall. He can't help but wonder if the man was actually dead at the time, or perhaps he was just knocked unconscious by the blow. There was a lot of blood, that's for certain, but not enough to have been an artery. If he were still alive, Ariel may have wanted to let him suffer a little longer... maybe she wanted to dispose of him a special way. He glances over the barrels curiously. These seem to be Gregory's personal store, no doubt the man loved his alcohol. He leans against one, noting how it's about the height of his own body. After a short moment, he grins and turns to the others.

"Yahtzee!" he comments excitedly. "If I were Ariel I'd probably be too weak to move the body far, right? So, how's this for irony? Gregory wasn't killed with the blow from the ax, just knocked unconscious. So what better way to get rid of a man prone to kill those that love him... than by killing him with his own love?"

"There's no way he's stuffed in one of those barrels," Sam scoffs.

"I don't know," Charlie muses. "Sounds like something __I'd__ do. Besides, just standing beside them Dean looks like they're big enough to hide him."

"But are they empty?"

All eyes are on Castiel when he brings up the problem. It's a question that didn't even pop into their minds. Dean hums and turns back to the barrels, carefully knocking on them. They both sound hollow enough, so he grabs a crow bar and notices a notch in the lid. Normally these barrels aren't supposed to open like this, they're sealed save for the cork's spot. He jams the bar in the notch and pulls, putting his weight into it. The round lid pops from it's position and clatters to the floor. From the barrel a strange liquid wrought with chunks of black spills. There wasn't a lot, but enough to make a mess on the floor. It smells like wine, however there's something else that simply smells of death within it. This may be where the bodies are held until their hearts are carved out, likely abandoned in another area to place blame upon an innocent.

"What _is_ that?" Charlie gags.

"This wine is laced with human blood," Castiel remarks after setting his fingers in the goo to test it. "He must've stolen the blood of his wives from the coroner's after they were embalmed."

"I'm _really_ not liking this guy," the redhead murmurs. "Although, this is far more ironic. Not only was he killed by his love of alcohol, but he's also buried in the blood of his victims... nice touch."

Dean ignores the two, moving to the next barrel and popping the lid open. This time the lid blows off the barrel, Castiel grabbing Charlie and blinking across the room to stand behind Dean before it hits them. He's uncertain if the quick change is for her safety or Dean's, yet he's unwilling to dwell on it at his point in time. There's too much to deal with at the moment. He stands as close to the hunter as he'll allow, the redhead at his side. She timidly thanks the angel, trying to stop her knees from shaking too noticeably. The ghastly stench that rolls from the barrel helps with that, the girl gagging and turning away. She hasn't been victim to this smell as often as the hunters, they've grown immune to it by now. Quickly, Charlie backtracks and gags into her hands. She manages to make it to a semblance of fresh air before losing her stomach contents on the floor.

"And there we have it!" Dean states proudly. "Damn, I'd make an _awesome_ detective!"

"No, Dean, you'd just make an awesome murderer," Sam chuckles. "Let's gank this ghost before it grabs you again."

Charlie throws salt on the bones hurriedly after regathering herself, the group foregoing the lighter fluid as the body is obviously soaked through with wine. Dean moves back so Sam can throw in the lighter, Gregory's ghost grabbing him from behind. He curses and tries to get loose, but the man has a strong grip. Fingers start digging into his back, the hunter crying out in pain as his blood flows, and Castiel twirls the fire poker after taking it from Charlie. He steps forward with purpose, the look of a seasoned warrior on his face and his blue eyes hard with anger. The ghost hesitates just long enough for Sam to light it's remains on fire. Gregory refuses to let Dean go until he adds his heart to his collection, returning to his previous task even as he burns. Castiel grabs Dean and yanks him forward, almost pulling his arm out of socket. He's clear of the spirit though and Castiel raises the iron weapon to slash downward across the ghost's chest. He screams as he's taken by the fire, vanishing just before the weapon can connect. Though the threat is gone, the hunter can't help but notice the arm around his shoulders doesn't move. The blue-eyed angel keeps him pressed against his side, the position providing a shield while also keeping him within Castiel's grasp... an anchor to tell him Dean will be fine as long as he's in his embrace.

Everyone is quiet for a moment, Castiel holding Dean up as they slowly sink to the floor. His shirt is torn where the fingers dug through, blood seeping from deep gashes tunneling toward his heart through his back. Charlie shakes the angel from his seething anger as Sam skids over on his knees, panic evident on his features even as his hands reach to extract his brother from the man. There's a soft growl that falls from Castiel's lips, startling the two at the noise they never thought him capable of making, and then he manages to rejoin them in the dank cellar. The angel tightens his possessive grip on Dean, carefully drawing the hunter toward him so he can see the injuries. He slides a hand around to his back, setting it between his shoulder blades once more and healing the injuries there.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean breaths out shakily.

"It's not a problem, Dean," he answers. "We should probably leave."

"... We should burn the whole place," Charlie states after a moment. "What if some of those women were trapped here as well? _They_ deserve peace more than their murderer, we should give it to them."

"I'll douse them," Sam assures. "You two get Dean topside, okay? I'll be right there."

"Be careful, Sammy," Dean comments.

He pats his brother on the shoulder, waiting until they're halfway up the steps to start pouring the lighter fluid over the jars. He would empty them, but he knows the heat will break the glass. With enough lighter fluid and the added alcohol on the floor, they should all be burned well enough. Before heading out, he pours the remaining salt on the shelves and pulls another lighter from the duffel. He hurries out the hidden room and flicks the lighter to life, tossing it back into the area and dashing for the stairs. The fire spreads rapidly, traveling along the blood tainted wine and the rotting shelves. As he reaches the cellar door, he can hear the jars bursting below.

Dean is sitting in the grass when Sam runs out, slamming the door shut behind him. He can see the pallor to his brother's skin, glad they'll be heading home after all this. Carefully, they make their way to the impala. They don't want to run into Becky during their escape, so they send Charlie ahead with the flashlight. She keeps the beam pointed behind her, flashing it when she catches sight of the blonde. With the redhead's navigation, they all reach the car without hassle.

They're driving back to Charlie's motel room first, the redhead giving directions to Sam, when Castiel really takes in Dean. He's sitting behind Sam, so he has a good spot to truly study the older hunter. His face is pale and there's a strange light within his green eyes. It's barely noticeable by anyone that isn't inhuman and actually looking. As an angel, Castiel had felt something different between Dean and other humans. He had always assumed it was the fact he was Micheal's vessel, but he's beginning to believe that wasn't it. Whatever this happens to be is in Dean's blood, something he was born with and will never rid himself of. The same goes for Sam, he has that same strange feeling to his soul.

"Who's that?" Charlie asks in confusion.

"Loki!" Sam smiles in relief. "I was wondering when he'd show up!"

"Leave it to him to wait until all the work's done," Dean scoffs tiredly.

Sam shoots Dean a dirty look, yet parks the car carefully before getting out. In seconds the man is in front of Sam, pulling him into a tight hug. The scene is surprising, pulling a scoff and an eyeroll from the older sibling. He knows Sam prefers to be in a relationship, that he's always needed that sort of connection in his life... one Dean just can't provide for him. Still, seeing that damn trickster drool all over the taller male is enough to make him puke. Not that he's against a relationship between two men... just his brother and the trickster that has a tendency to off him without care. Charlie gawks at the spectacle, turning to Dean or Castiel for answers. Both are too busy exiting the vehicle to notice her shock. She scrambles out Dean's side, shutting the door behind her, and then grips his arm. It's both to garner his attention and to help his wobbly form stay standing.

"Who the hell is Loki?" she asks.

"The trickster god from Norse mythology," Dean waves off tiredly. "He's Sam's soul-mate. They've been banging since the other day."

"We have not!" Sam snaps. "And my love life is no business of yours!"

"It's my business!" Charlie chirps happily. "Who tops?"

"Uh... Loki, this is Charlie," Sam murmurs. "She's sort of our adopted sister, she's been looking for our jobs through the net. Be nice to her, she has mad hacker skills... got one over on the Leviathans. She's also _extremely_ aggressive, so don't piss her off with a prank. I'd rather not lie next to you when you're having nightmares about her wrath. I had enough trouble calming Dean down after she got after _him_."

"... Wow, I suddenly have this overwhelming respect for her," the other grins impishly. "We could make a beautiful team, Charlie!"

She smirks and holds tighter to Dean, who's getting more irritated with the treatment. He'll allow it, however, as Charlie isn't Sam and she'll likely punch him if he snaps at her. The minute he gets the chance, however, he slips away from her worrying eye. Though he manages to evade Charlie, he'll never get away from Castiel's intense eyes. Not that he wants to, as those blue orbs send pleasant shivers throughout his frame with each heavy press he imagines from them. He follows Dean cautiously, not with his body but with that damn gaze. He knows that now he'll be able to reach him in time, he doesn't need to stay only a step away from the shorter brother.

"How was your visit with Aphrodite?" Sam wonders.

" _Aphrodite_? The Greek goddess of love and beauty?" Charlie asks in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me! Oh my god! What's she like? Is she really as beautiful as the myths say? Is she as mean as they say?"

"Whoa, hold on there," the trickster laughs. "My visit was informative and yes, she's as beautiful as the myths say. She's also as wrathful as they say. If you guys check the weather on the internet, you'll see that around my visit a typhoon hit the coast and a lot of salt water springs boiled over mysteriously. She was __not__ a happy camper when I mentioned Kushiel's order to attack Dean."

Dean's features twist in anger, which he's more than willing to use to harm the trickster. Castiel is quick to pull him away, sighing in exasperation as he does so. All the effort thrown into protection, there's no way he'll allow such reckless behavior now. Not that it's the hunter's fault, of course. Gabriel has a habit of irritating the green-eyed male, as though it's his only mission in life. He would much rather wait until his older sibling has divulged everything he's learned before allowing the hunter to lay waste to him.

They retreat to Charlie's apartment before they speak any further. The redhead closes the door after the last of the men enter, locking it behind her once making certain no one is eavesdropping nearby. It's not difficult to tell, as there really aren't any other people on their floor. The place is a typical hotel with balconies outside that lead to the different rooms, but its the off season and tourists are usually the ones that occupy this place. Since it's not very busy, they have little worry on being overheard. She pulls the chair from the table and sits down, eagerly awaiting the news from the new presence in the room. Gabriel, however, keeps his lips sealed. He watches her strangely, giving Sam a questioning look. It's obvious what he's asking, unlike Castiel he's never even _heard_ of Charlie let alone met her.

"It's okay, she can be trusted," Sam offers. "She's family after all."

"... Well, Aphrodite told me some pretty worrisome stuff," he starts. "First off, the whole soul-mate thing was ordered by a seriously powerful creature... even the higher powers bend to them. Secondly, they seem to have an unhealthy fixation on you two. And I mean unhealthy by the fact it's not good for __your__ health."

"Story of our fucking lives," Dean mutters bitterly. "Sometimes I think we were _born_ with targets on our heads."

Castiel is quiet this whole time, watching Dean as he lies back on the bed. The voices he and Sam heard are working him over rather badly, even Sam is still pale from the event. Though the taller brother seems to be taking it a bit better than Dean. The angel can only assume it was from his cleansing during the trials he went through, the ones to seal the gates of Hell he came so close to finishing. From what the green-eyed hunter said, the spirits would've hit that 'have to save everyone' nerve. The older brother has always felt obligated to walk into danger if only to save one more person from death. Having heard all those pleas for help from those he can't truly save must've been a horrible blow. As for Sam, he's always had a very soft heart. Hearing those pleas as they were murdered no doubt tore at his heart, sending him through a guilt he knows is unfounded. The only difference between the two, is the fact Sam has learned to move on and talk through his pains... Dean merely locks them away until those imaginary chains rust and break. He never truly lets go and hence those pains come back to haunt him in the end.

"Why are they fixated on us, do you know?" Sam inquires softly.

"No clue, sorry," he shrugs. "All I know is this whole headache revolves around the concept of soul-mates. Other than that, Aphrodite was pretty vague. She knows her role, that's it. If you ask me, Kushiel is going after Lucifer."

"Kushiel shouldn't even be topside," Castiel states in confusion. "I mean... she was punished after Lucifer's rebellion, wasn't she? I don't recall the archangels ordering her release from Purgatory. In fact, I can't recall sensing her while I was doing my penance there."

"Okay, who the hell is Kushiel and why did she target me!" Dean shouts in frustration.

"... Kushiel was Lucifer's right hand angel," Gabriel remarks with a sigh. "She would've moved Heaven and Earth if he asked her to, she loved him more than she loved our Father. That was the problem with soul-mates where angels are concerned... we would choose to fall to be with them if they were human and follow them blindly should they be an angel. That's one of the reasons that privilege was taken away, aside from the fact it was abused and many humans died because of it."

"Whoa, hold up... how'd that happen?" Charlie asks in surprise.

Gabriel sighs and takes a seat on the other chair, his features wrought with a bone deep weariness. At that moment, it's easy to see he's lived far longer than his looks portray. Sam can't help but set a comforting hand on his shoulder, hoping to ease the burden of all the evil he's seen throughout his many centuries. Though that part of the group has come together, the older hunter is still sprawled out on the bed. He seems so alone, so vulnerable, that the younger angel can't help responding. He sits beside Dean, who's still staring at the ceiling in exhaustion, and sets a hand upon the one so close to his thigh. The touch is answered by Dean's fingers threading through his own and squeezing lightly. It's a small gesture, most likely given unconsciously, but it gives the angel hope.

"A scribe came across a strange sigil around the time before the black plague," he sighs. "It was said to turn the human it's placed on into an angel upon their deaths, but it had to be placed during their life. Many angels placed the mark, wanting to be with their soul-mates forever and give them the gift of an angel's Grace. The human died within a week and became a vengeful spirit, unable to cross over to the afterlife... trapped on the mortal plain for all eternity. Eventually, their vengeance grew so thick it turned into a sickness that swept the area... the black plague. Hunters managed to eradicate the spirits, but they were damaged and sent to Purgatory by God. Never to see their soul-mates again. Because the sigil was so abused, our right to have soul-mates was revoked. Those that found love among the angels _before_ the rule were allowed to keep that bond."

Dean is sitting up now, confusion in his eyes. Obviously, this wasn't something he expected. Charlie listens attentively, fascinated by the story of heartache and love lost. Gabriel seems spent, hanging his head at the reminder of such a horrible event. He didn't have a soul-mate then, but he felt for all his siblings. He can still hear their sobs at the loss, see the heavy clouds of depression hanging around them as they walk about Heaven like zombies... shells of their former selves. He shakes himself from the memory, setting a hand atop the one Sam still has on his shoulder. Castiel was still a cherub at that time, he didn't understand the sadness that rained down from the heavens in thick torrents. Shaking off the emotions from the past, he goes on.

"The sigil was meant for a specific human," he sighs after his silent reverie. "The typical one can't handle the power behind it. That, however, has nothing to do with Kushiel. She was punished _long_ before that time. She stood beside Lucifer when he rebelled against God, however her punishment was harsher than the others that took his side. Our Father knew that should she be sent to Earth or left in Heaven, she would eventually find a way back to Lucifer. She would figure out how to free him. He sent her to Purgatory."

"She must've escaped with the Leviathans," Castiel states in guilt. "I'm so sorry, Gabriel, I didn't mean for that to happen. I just... wanted to keep Raphael from forcing Dean and Sam to go through the apocalypse again."

"I know, little brother," the trickster smiles. "You don't have anything to apologize for, you did what you thought was best."

Dean is quiet for a long while, the image of the burn on his shoulder flashing in his mind. He never told Castiel about it, he and Sam decided it was best to just keep it between them. He can see the want in Sam's eyes, the need to just break down and mention it to those present, yet the glare he sends his younger brother stills his tongue. They can ask about the marks later, right now they need to learn about their newest enemy. Before the younger sibling can let their secret rush past his lips unbidden, the green-eyed hunter quickly cuts in.

"So... Kushiel's planning on letting Lucifer and Micheal loose," Dean sighs. "Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. Why attack me?"

"... She thought she had time to turn you away from Castiel," the trickster admits. "The bond between you and Castiel was forged before you were born, Dean. Thankfully she wasn't aware of that. Aphrodite paid special care to both you _and_ Sam when she created it. It lay dormant until you found us. In your case, it was stronger because your soul was touched by Castiel's. The effect was almost instantaneous. Kushiel knew you would be able to bring back Castiel's Grace, but thought you were just a simple human at the time she sent her goon to harm you. Apparently, something has changed in you... I knew that when your offspring died at the Amazons' lair. Your bloodline can _not_ be passed on."

"... What? What the hell does that have to do with them attacking me!"

"Dean, Castiel is the youngest of the angels," Gabriel finally remarks in irritation. "When he was born, our Father sealed his growth. He didn't want him maturing, he wanted to keep him a cherub for all eternity. I thought he was feeling that empty-nest syndrome humans feel, I had no clue why else he would do that... until he left. No one would take Cas in, none of the archangels wanted anything to do with raising a cherub... so I took him in against their wishes. Aphrodite helped me out a lot, she was my best friend. Still is. Since Father wasn't there to keep his growth locked, he started growing again. I knew immediately why he didn't want him maturing. Castiel is special, he'll eventually become one of the most _powerful_ archangels in the _history_ of angels!"

"... I couldn't even stop Raphael," Castiel points out in disbelief.

"You're also still very young in angel terms," his brother counters. "You only just reached maturity when I placed you in the garrison with Anna, she was supposed to look after you when I left. I had no clue she would leave as well. The point is, your power is still immature and growing. Kushiel knew this when you were born and didn't want to chance you regaining your Grace after she heard Metatron turned you human. It's likely she thought Dean and Sam were the only ones that were standing in her way, as they've already proven to be quite capable against all odds. She knew Dean was closest to you, most likely learned it while residing in your vessel. Without Dean, Sam wouldn't help out. It was only logical to hit your chances in the strongest area."

Dean flops back on the bed, grumbling about logic and his terrible luck. Of all the people to be targeted, of all the reasons for it, he'll never understand why it's always him. Although it's quite irritating, he knows Castiel is blaming himself once again for everything that's befallen him. After a moment, he sighs and gets up. He goes for the door, only Charlie standing in his way. It's clear to her that this is just too much to take in. She's not even a part of it and it's too much for _her_ , she can only imagine what Dean is feeling. However, she's a woman and she knows how they think. Human or supernatural being, all women think the same.

"You're not going anywhere alone," she states seriously. "If I were her and my first plan backfired, I would definitely want to ensure the one person with the power to stop me wouldn't be able to. That means a hostage, which means she's likely waiting for the opportunity to kidnap you."

"... Sometimes your way of thinking scares me," Dean comments.

"Well, it's true," she frowns. "Now, if you really __must__ head out for a brisk walk take someone with you. Preferably someone that can deal out some serious power."

Dean rolls his eyes and pushes Charlie aside, opening the door to leave. In that moment, everything seems to slow down. His ears pick up the tick of the clock on the wall, it becomes distant and drawn-out. His nose catches the scent of dew drops from the light shower they had earlier, an underlying smell of wine from the mission hanging on his clothes... and the lingering stench of death and decay. His sense of touch tingles against the cool door knob, tiny jolts of electricity rushing through his nerve endings. And he can suddenly taste copper on his tongue.

"Dean!" Sam shouts.

His body falls to his knees, a bullet hole in his chest. Across the street, hidden partially by a curtain in one of the hotel rooms, someone lifts a sniper rifle from the ledge. Charlie is crying, her tears landing against Dean's face as she drags his head onto her lap. Everything is numb, no pain or cold or anything like that. His vision is blackening at the edges, he can see Castiel's look of utter pain and horror as he kneels beside them. The angel takes him from the redhead, pressing the hunter tightly in his embrace. So much sadness is within those blue eyes, it sends a thick carpet of grief throughout the room. He cries out, a shock wave of his Grace slamming outward and cracking the windows. Those in the building the sniper hid in completely shatter. Sam and Gabriel are standing behind them, the trickster ready to snap his fingers and rewind the moment. For some reason, however, his powers are blocked. He curses Kushiel at that moment, yet Dean doesn't care. His body feels lighter than it has in years as he closes his eyes for the last time. There are so many things he wants to say to the blue eyes gazing upon him brokenly, knows he managed to utter something, yet that's it. His fingers reach weakly up, attempting to touch that stubbly cheek and managing a light graze of fingertips, and then it falls. Everything goes black and it feels like every burden he's ever forced upon his own shoulders finally disappears. He's never felt so good in all his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No!!!!!!!!!! DEAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ToT It's okay, you know how these guys can be... it won't stick (spoiler). I just want you to know that in case you're the type that doesn't like character death. I know I don't.


	11. The Woman in White Speaks Riddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's spirit has separated from his body, the hunter pissed at his bad luck. As he's trying to figure out why this always seems to happen to him, he watches Cas slowly break at his loss. Awaiting his Reaper, the hunter is yanked away from his small family... to face a new kind of creature. She's no Reaper and she's no spirit, but she seems to know Dean far better than she should. With her help, Dean finds himself alive and well within his body once again. Unfortunately, this new ability has Dean ill and they're forced back to the bunker. With Dean too weak to move, he's left in the care of Castiel... because no one else has the patience for his temper. In the meantime, Sam comes clean with Gabriel about the mark left by Aphrodite... and he learns a disturbing truth about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm really sorry for killing Dean. It broke my heart and I cried while I wrote it... but it was necessary and you'll understand why in this chapter. =) I promise. He'll be just fine. XD

Castiel tries to force his power for half an hour after they're positive Dean's taken his last breath, a frantic expression on his features as tears gather in his eyes. It's never been like this, there's always been _something_ that prevented the Winchester brothers from bidding their final farewell. He simply can't wait the months or years it normally takes for them to spontaneously appear again. He'll force his way through any gate to drag the man back to him, if only he knew where the hunter ended up. Charlie has used up all her tears, sitting like a hollow shell at the table. They had lain Dean on the bed to attempt patching up his injury. The bullet pierced his heart in that single shot, there is no saving him without angelic healing power. Thanks to Kushiel, or so they assume, that means of saving him is blocked. Sam sits with Charlie, just as devastated and lost as she is, but Gabriel is next to Castiel. He's trying his best to pull his little brother away from the slowly cooling corpse. Not that anything he says eases the younger angel from the bedside. He can feel that horrible sadness filling the room, the one from long ago when all those angels lost their soul-mates. It leaves an acrid taste, like bile, in the back of his mouth and he can only close his golden eyes and sigh.

Dean can hear all this like sound from beneath water, it's distorted and distant. So much confusion and numbness, it causes his head to spin for a little while. Once it stills, it gives time to reflect on everything more carefully. He's still lying on the bed, trying to speak to the others and getting nowhere. All assurances of his safety go unanswered, no reactions are drawn from those in misery sitting about the room. Slowly, he finds the strength to sit up and looks around. Everything seems the same, nothing threatening nearby, so then why isn't anyone noticing he's up? He glances behind him.

"Son of bitch," he sighs in exasperation. "Why does this keep happening to me?"

His body is lying on the bed behind him, his spirit released from the vessel. Carefully, he gets up and looks about for a Reaper. Such a creature always appears when a soul is ready to depart this world... yet... it doesn't seem they're on time today. When he doesn't sense any, he hums to himself and sighs in a bit of relief. Perhaps they gave up on ushering him to the afterlife, he _has_ come back around three times after all. Hell, he would've given up on himself if he were them. Just as he's relaxing, distracted by his train of thought, some strange force grips him and yanks him from the room. Everything is a blur as he races through the neighborhood, his body falling to his hands and knees suddenly. He's in a park, a small koi pond and bridge over to his right and a bench to his left. There are a lot of trees, enough to give privacy to couples and seclusion to serial killers. That last thought certainly doesn't make him feel any better about this. One arm grips at his stomach, the other at his head, and he gags at the nausea building in his throat. The force and suddenness twisting around his insides and threatening him with blackened edges upon his sight. It's shaken off quickly, years of training and the need to keep conscious in a dangerous situation taking over.

"Honestly, Dean, you need to be more careful," a voice of wind chimes and soft breezes scolds. "I'm not always going to be here to pull your ass from the fire, you know."

He looks up, startled, and notes there's a woman on the bridge. Her back is to him, her focus on the koi fish as she drops in food for them. She's tall and willowy, her figure a perfect hourglass and her hair as white as freshly fallen snow. It has to be long, but it's pulled into a tight bun atop her head and decorated with chop sticks. Her outfit is an Asian kimono; the length short and stopping at her mid-thigh, the billowing sleeves dipping a bit past her fingertips. It's white with black petals and flowers decorating it, the bow huge and black with a gold lining. From what he can see there's also a thick gold fabric resting beneath the ribbon the bow is made from and a thick gold cord over that. Her footwear are wooden sandals with tall posts between her feet and the ground. She turns to face the stunned male, her eyes a pool of black within white that pop out from her porcelain skin. Her bangs frame her face, decorated with beads and golden strings hanging from elegant triangles. He could see her walking straight from one of those old samurai movies. As she moves toward him, he can see a sheathed katana at her hip. It's the right hip, hidden on the other side of her when she had her back to him.

"Who the hell are you?" he asks cautiously.

"My name is Xia," she offers with a smile. "And you're Dean Winchester, son to Mary and John Winchester, brother to Sam Winchester, vessel to Michael, and soul-mate to Castiel."

"... You wanna run that last part by me again," he mutters as he stands and brushes his bottom off unconsciously.

"Like you didn't know, I'm sure it was brought to your attention already," she scoffs. "You, my boy, are a stubborn little brat. That's what __you__ are. You infuriate Aphrodite, you know."

Dean says nothing, regarding the strange woman carefully. She doesn't seem to be a Reaper, but they can take the form of anyone. There's no reason for any type of supernatural creature other than them to bother him now. She could be a spirit, but she certainly doesn't seem like any he's come across before. She radiates too much light, seems like a beacon even in the day. There's also this annoying way she regards the hunter with such familiarity, something he's curious about but also extremely wary of. She can tell he's studying her, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"What am I doing here if you're not a Reaper?" he wonders.

"You're talking to me, of course," the woman points out smartly. "Some very powerful people hold you and your brother in their favor, you know."

"... So I've been told. I haven't, however, been told why."

"Perhaps there's more behind your back-story than you've been told," Xia comments with a feigned thoughtfulness. "If I were you, I'd start digging into my own past to find the answers. Of course, that would be quite difficult if you're dead, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, yes it would," Dean remarks in frustration.

"Hmm... Might I point out that since that pretty little sigil showed up on your shoulder, there's a safety net between your spirit and the afterlife? Just saying, that information might come in handy later down the road. What with Kushiel trying to kill you and all."

"... What does that mean?"

"So smart and yet so very dense," Xia sighs. "It means all you have to do is lie back down in your body. Go on, go try it out... before Castiel flips out and decimates the town. Poor precious cherub."

Before he can say anything more, the woman in white from head to toe flicks her hand toward him. The motion is dismissing and his spirit is suddenly yanked backwards, tumbling to the floor of the hotel room a second later. Once more the hunter is left gagging on his knees. He makes himself a mental note to bitch that woman out should their paths cross again, this is worse than Castiel flitting them away in the past. The room is silent, Gabriel holding Sam and Charlie like a man consoling his family. Any other time, the scene would be sweet and might even provoke an 'awe' from the hunter. Right now, however, it's lost upon him. His green orbs are riveted to the angel he's become fond of on an intimate level. Castiel is lying with his head within his arms, which are resting on the bed beside Dean's body. He looks so broken, so unlike the Castiel Dean knows. It's heart wrenching and he wants nothing more than to console the grieving entity. With a sigh, the green-eyed hunter walks over to him. He only hesitates a moment before he reaches out and brushes the angel's cheek gently with the backs of his fingers. A flash of his last moments filter into his mind, the way he acted around the angel bringing a blush to his face he's glad they can't see. To think he'd act like such a girl toward him sending his more masculine side into a massive scold, one that viciously berates his claim at being a man. While he's busy with his internal war, Castiel lifts his head at the feeling of the ghostly touch. His heart is in his throat as blue eyes dart around in question.

"Dean?" he murmurs softly.

"Dean is gone, baby brother," Gabriel remarks softly. "I'm sorry, but we can't bring him back. Kushiel made sure of that. Whereas she'd get in trouble for killing him or ordering it, it's not her fault if we can't save him from a random attack. She found the loophole... I'm sorry."

"I just felt him... his spirit is here."

Sam looks over to the angel in surprise, wondering if Dean is still lingering because of them. Normally a hunter's remains are burned after their death, however they needed time to come to terms with it... to grieve. Dean rolls his eyes, sitting on the bed and lying back where he started. He can hear Xia's voice in his head, a whisper upon the breeze, telling him what to look for and how to fix things. He concentrates on his heart, imagining the bullet hole there. The bullet was removed by Sam as the younger brother tried to save him. He thanks his attentiveness all those times Castiel healed him, imagining the angel's hand atop his wound as the warmth trickles through him in a healing wash. The muscle and tendons, organs and skin, all of them rapidly mend. Then comes the imagery of his heart getting hit by the paddles. It takes a few tries and he's shocked how real the feeling of electricity bombarding his heart is, but finally it starts beating again.

The others are discussing his funeral when his hearing returns to him, his body stiff... though not as bad as when he was pulled from Hell. His eyes are open, he knows that, but he still can't see anything. Someone is close to him, brushing his hand lightly with cloth... probably Castiel's jacket. It's a lifeline within room that readily calls to the hunter. His fingers twitch and he grips the jacket as best he can, which the angel immediately notices.

"... Dean?" he inquires breathlessly.

"Cas, you're losing it!" Sam snaps. "And you're upsetting Charlie! Dean is __dead__! There are _no_ angels to pull him from Hell, no secret door to get out of Purgatory, and no reason for Metatron to return him to us from Heaven! He's not coming back, damn it!"

"... He's gripping my jacket," the angel points out with a bite to his tone.

Everything stops, all eyes on the corpse they set upon the bed. Dean's shirt was cut off when Sam removed the bullet, so the fact his injury isn't there anymore is perfectly clear to them all. Gabriel and Castiel are just as shocked as the rest of them, so it's obvious they had nothing to do with this. Dean's brows wrinkle as he groans in discomfort, his arms stiffly raising over his head to stretch out his frame. Jaws drop and eyes go wide, the hunter on the mattress yawning as though he's just woken from a particularly restful nap. His green eyes wash over the others, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Why's everyone acting like the fucking world ended?" Dean mutters in a raspy voice. "It's not like that's the first time I keeled over, you know."

Castiel has him in a hug within a second, Charlie and Sam joining in. The hunter could swear he heard something within his mind, a husky voice that sounds exactly like Castiel, murmuring 'my world did'. The ghost of a thought sets his blood on fire, Dean immediately redirecting it from pooling in his groin. He's about to push them all away, worried they'll feel his hard-on should he fail at killing it before it starts. Unfortunately, Gabriel, never one to be left out of a good dog-pile, tackles them to the bed. There's a groan of pain from the bottom, Dean still sore from the experience of healing his own wounds... and getting shot in the chest, let's not forget that. With apologies from the lot of them, they carefully back away and give him room to breath.

He knows they're wondering what happened, yet he just doesn't know how to explain a woman in white throwing him back into his body. He's not even sure what this Xia woman _is_. After a long moment, Dean lies back down. The exhaustion is finally catching up to him and he can't help but wonder if this is what Castiel felt like when drained. The brunette gently brushes Dean's hair off his forehead, though it's not needed for more than a comforting motion. The hunter closes his green eyes at the feeling, sighing in content before he can stop himself. One eye peeks open, curious if anyone noticed the sound. No one is really paying attention save for the angel at his side. He's not certain if he should be happy about that or dread it. As his eyes turn to lock with incredible blue, he knows they've softened in affection he's not ready to face... because Castiel's eyes do the same, filling with a level of adoration Dean has never been privy to.

"So? What happened?" Charlie wonders quietly, breaking the spell between the two unintentionally.

"He probably pissed off another Reaper," Sam mutters. "He's lucky like that."

"I did _not_!" Dean bristles. "I _died_ , jackass! There were no Reapers here, but I was pulled to a park by some weird chick that looked like she belonged in an old samurai movie. She even had the katana, looked like those heroines that take on armies with nothing more than a skimpy outfit and a blade. I couldn't make out what she was, but she __definitely__ wasn't a Reaper."

"Did she say anything?" Gabriel questions.

"She didn't pull me all the way out there to __stare__ at me," the older hunter scoffs. "She said a lot of stuff, talked like I've known her since I was born. She mentioned that my back-story had things even __I__ didn't know about, said I should dig into my own past to learn a thing or two. After that, she said that... it wasn't my time yet. Then she threw me back here and I woke up."

Sam glares at his brother, always knowing when the other is spitting out lies. He doesn't know why Dean does it anymore, even Charlie knows something isn't right. Granted the angels aren't exactly jumping on the train at the moment, but Gabriel can read it on Sam and that's all he needs to put Dean on his 'sift through his mind for information later' list. Not that he'll be able to, at least not without Castiel's permission. To infiltrate the mind of an angel's soul-mate is not only rude, but it's crossing some serious territorial lines and just might provoke the angel to lash out viciously. He loves the baby brother he raised, but he's not about to cross that line without taking it up with the other.

With a sigh that clearly portrays his fatigue, Dean lays an arm over his eyes. His stomach is queasy and he's about ready to puke all over the floor, yet he stubbornly resists the urge. Charlie can see it on his face, quickly grabbing the small garbage basket and setting it on the floor beside the bed. No sooner does it hit the floor, he's turning to throw up into it. She jerks away, a look of disgust on her features.

"Gross," she mutters. "You couldn't wait until I moved?"

"Sorry," he remarks before heaving again.

Sam rubs soothing circles on his back, though only because Castiel's moved away from the bed to pace the room restlessly. His brows are dipped in confusion, eyes alight with the struggle of thinking through a completely new math problem that's rumored to be unsolvable. Something seems wrong with this somehow, like there's a piece to a puzzle he had at one time but misplaced a while back. His brother can see it on his face, the older angel sitting at the table to watch his little brother try and ferret out an answer even _he_ can't truly remember. He gives the younger angel points for tenacity, yet hopes he doesn't hurt himself in search of that piece that's been stolen.

"I feel like there's a block in my mind," Castiel sighs in that husky tone. "Every time I think I get close to figuring this out, something is standing between me and the answers... a wall of some sort."

"Don't try too hard," Gabriel remarks as he rests his cheek on a fist leisurely. "It just might be that someone doesn't want you knowing. And if they're strong enough to block your mind, I can think of at least _one_ person with that capability."

"I say forget about this for now," Sam states. "It's obvious that Dean is in trouble and now he's also sick. We should head for the bunker, at least it can't be found by anyone that we don't want there. Charlie is going to come with us, I'll take her in the impala. Cas, you know where it is, take Dean there now. We'll meet up with you later. Please... take care of him."

"I will."

Castiel waits until Dean is finished getting sick, and then lifts him into his arms. The hunter complaining at the bridal style hold he's in, a slight blush dusting the bridge of his nose. It's not that it's uncomfortable, it's just that it's embarrassing. Dean never responds well to embarrassment unless it's a prank... then he responds with a much worse prank that totally mortifies the target. Sort of like the itching powder he put in Sam's boxer shorts during their prank spree. His complaints, however, are ignored and Castiel holds him more firmly so he can't slip from his grasp. They're gone in a rustle of wings. Once they've departed, the trio left grab Charlie's bags and hurry to the impala. Things are getting complicated and Sam can feel it... like death is slowly following them, waiting for that ultimate sacrifice they invariably have to make. As he speeds away from the hotel, he can't help but wonder if Dean is the only one in Kushiel's cross-hairs.

Kevin is studying the angel tablet when Castiel appears with Dean, the dark haired prophet jumping in surprise before hurrying to help. The hunter's face is a peculiar shade of green, however he's asleep now and it's slowly turning to a pallor instead. They lay him in his room, the angel refusing to leave him for any reason. It's obvious something huge happened, something that won't be mentioned for a long while. The prophet watches as Castiel reaches over and caresses Dean's cheek gently. Away from town, the angel's powers are at his disposal once more and he gives the brunette a check up.

"... You're an angel again!" Kevin states in lingering surprise. "When did that happen?"

Castiel flinches at the comment, hanging his head and averting his eyes. The prophet can tell immediately that something is wrong and the topic should be dropped, so he asks the angel to grab him the thermometer from the medical room down the hall. It's a random move, though strategic, and he's hoping Castiel notes his attempt at being polite. It's caught, a slight smile touching Casitel lips at Kevin's attempt. He doesn't move, though, just sending a quizzical look at the other once the comment is absorbed.

"There's no need for it," he remarks. "Dean is fine, just... drained. His call with death has left him lacking energy, which has him developing nausea and a cold sweat. They'll subside in an hour or so, after that he'll need to rest."

"Call with death! Wait... never mind. You guy's will tell me when you're ready," the prophet waves off. "So he's okay? No sickness, no injuries?"

"He's perfectly healthy, Kevin, I assure you."

He nods and retreats, yet hesitates at the door. Kevin glances back and studies the man before him, Castiel pulling a chair over to sit at Dean's bedside. The look he gives the hunter is one of adoration and content, one hand hesitating to reach out and set upon Dean's. After a moment's thought, he finishes the movement and is rewarded with Dean's fingers curling around his own. It brings a soft and minute smile to the angel's lips, his blue pools softening as they gaze upon the human. There's still a tension around him, though, one that Kevin picks up on immediately. The prophet sighs and moves back toward the other, sitting on the desk on the other side of the room.

"You need to talk," he comments more than asks. "I'm here to listen."

"... I allowed Dean to be harmed," Castiel murmurs sadly. "I can never forgive myself for it... never. He doesn't place blame on me, however I can see when he flinches or backs away from me. I can tell when he tenses, I can see fear in his eyes. It's not all the time, merely when I catch him off guard... but it's there all the same."

"What happened?"

"... A demon possessed me and... ravished him forcibly," the angel comments hesitantly.

Kevin doesn't let his surprise show on his face, it's not that strong anyway. He was wondering when something like that might happen. After all, the Winchesters have been harmed in every _other_ way save that one. He sighs and regards Castiel once again, watching that sadness mix with the powerful adoration normally found within impossibly blue eyes. It's something Kevin couldn't help but notice when he first saw Castiel and Dean in the same room together. The way the angel looks upon Dean, one would think the hunter were his whole world. Kevin had wondered frequently why Dean couldn't see it as well.

"Cas, I can honestly tell you I've never had to give advice on this before," he offers. "But I'm going to try anyway. I see the way you look at him and I see the way he looks at you. This might be a set-back... a really __big__ one... but you two can't _live_ without each other. Sam told me how Dean acted when they thought you were killed by the Leviathans. I mean, didn't you think it was sort of odd that he kept your trench coat in the impala's trunk for all that time? Even when they found _this_ place and set it up as their home, when Dean finally had a room to himself, he made sure to put a chair in the corner for you to sit and watch him. He _needs_ you, you're the only person that can help him through this. You'll just have to take it one day at a time. After all, Dean's a rather touch and go kind of person. I'm sure you've figured _that_ out by now."

"Indeed, I have," Castiel sighs. "My infinite patience comes so close to its very edges with him, only a few strands from snapping. It takes everything I have sometimes to deal with his temper tantrums and bullheadedness... but I wouldn't have him any other way."

Kevin smiles and watches as the angel squeezes Dean's hand carefully. Once he's positive everything is just a bit better and the conflict has left blue eyes, he slides off the table and exits the room. He's come across the spell Metatron had used to cast out the angels, the prophet eager to answer the question that's been haunting Castiel. Though he hasn't managed to decipher it yet, it's only a matter of time. He'll just keep his finding secret until he succeeds. As the door clicks shut, a soft groan sounds from the bed and Castiel's attention is riveted to the flash of green eyes.

"Where are we?" Dean wonders.

"At the bunker," the angel offers softly. "You fell asleep after getting sick and I brought you here. Sam and the others are coming with the impala... unless Gabriel gets bored. He doesn't take long car rides well. How are you feeling?"

"... Weak as all hell," the hunter grumbles bitterly. "I can barely lift my hand."

"Your strength will return to you eventually, but for now you'll want to rest. I won't leave you, Dean, I promise. I'll be right here, watching over you as I always do."

Dean nods and slowly closes his eyes again, sighing in content at the feel of Castiel's presence. His mind is at complete peace for a long time, filled with the sounds of wind chimes and a whispered song in another language. From what he's heard of Castiel's native language, he can only assume it's Enochian. He would've assumed it to be the angel singing, yet the voice is a woman's and her use of the words in her song are strangely Asian in rhythm. It's soothing and even in his sleep he can't help but smile at the warmth that touches his skin from it. He knows without a doubt, though he can't tell how, that the woman singing is Xia.

Castiel is still sitting there when Sam arrives, the trio peeking in to make sure Dean is doing okay. His color has returned to his face and the cold sweat has disappeared. The sight is a relief, all three shedding tension like the second skin off a snake. Gabriel notes how his brother watches the hunter intently, his hands folded neatly in his lap and his posture perfectly straight. It's something he's always tried to break his brother of, that perfect posture, as it hinted to trouble relaxing. If he ever managed to teach him anything, the trickster wanted to teach him how to relax... how to not take everything so seriously. He fears he may have failed at that. Gabriel pulls Charlie away from the door, hoping to distract her with some of the books downstairs, and Sam steps inside the room. He's grateful for his lover's foresight, knowing conversations about his brother's health always send him through an emotional roller coaster. It's something he doesn't want many to see, especially not the girl he's supposed to be strong for. The sound of his footsteps alert Castiel to a visitor, though he knew they were there the moment they entered the bunker, and he sets blue eyes on the taller hunter.

"How is he?" Sam asks quietly, so as not to wake his brother.

"Weak, but much better. He'll be quite irritable until his energy and strength return."

Sam nods in understanding, stepping over to the other side of his brother and setting a hand upon his forehead. He was expecting a fever, maybe sweat, yet the skin is cool to the touch and dry. Any sweat that was there before has dried. Dean sighs in his sleep and shifts, getting a bit more comfortable on his pillow. Once he can clearly see that the older sibling is slumbering peacefully, Sam sends a grateful look that Castiel misses and leaves to find Gabriel.

The trickster is rummaging through the library, fascinated that humans could manage to create such a huge and impressive collection of the supernatural. Sam sneaks up behind him, attempting to startle the other when he wraps his arms around his waist from behind. He gets nothing more than a chirpy 'hello, my sweet' and a kiss to the cheek. Definitely not what he was going for and he just knows the trickster is grinning impishly at the face he makes. He tries to hide his disappointment.

"Dean is going to be fine," he remarks instead. "But I think I'll leave Cas to take care of him until he's able to get up and walk around on his own. I'd rather not be the one to deal with him."

"Way to throw him under the bus," Gabriel laughs. "Although, I must admit, I'd do the same damn thing if I were in your shoes. Nice collection, by the way."

Sam sets his chin atop Gabriel's head, sighing as he holds the angel-turned-trickster close. He never thought this scenario could feel so comforting... so right. The smell of the library and all it's contents mixed with the feeling of Gabriel in his arms has his heart swelling within his chest, tears of happiness welling in his eyes as he kisses the man's crown. Charlie is keeping Kevin company up above, the two testing one another through chess. Their soft voices rising slightly above the sound of their heartbeats every so often. It isn't often that Kevin gets to hang out with someone nearly as brilliant as himself. The taller male sighs and smirks a bit at the thought, a little upset he and Dean couldn't be adequate enough company for the other. Though he's trying his best to hide it, Gabriel can sense Sam's worry. He sets down the thick leather bound book in his hands, turning in the taller male's arms and returning his grasp.

"Nothing is going to tear this family apart, Sam," he offers seriously. "Cas and I won't let that happen, okay? There's no need to worry, I promise."

"There's something I have to tell you, something Dean didn't want me to," Sam murmurs as his blue eyes glance to the side. "I honestly feel torn saying this, I do. I promised Dean, but... he's incapacitated and you seem to know a lot about the subject..."

"Sam, just talk," Gabriel comments

"... When Aphrodite came to me in my dreams as you... and in Dean's as Castiel... well, she left something behind," he sighs out as he pulls away and begins to pace. "It was a strange mark that looks a bit like a sigil, she left it on my shoulder. Dean has one on his as well. I didn't know until he pointed it out though, they're extremely difficult to see."

Gabriel is quiet for a short while, watching Sam with a guarded expression. There's something within golden eyes that almost makes Sam regret mentioning the mark, something akin to worry. The last thing needed is worry. It's a long moment of simply watching one another, one in contemplation and the other holding his breath. Finally, the archangel steps closer and motions for the other to show him. The taller male slowly turns and lifts up the sleeve of his tee shirt, slightly shifting his shoulder so the light will play across the thin golden lines. Gabriel's eyes go wide, his mouth slightly agape, and his finger reaches out to run lightly along the mark. It shimmers and glows beneath his touch. Whatever was expected by the trickster was certainly not what he got.

"Sam... this is..."

"It's the mark you spoke of, isn't it? The one that killed all those people before."

"No, it isn't. That was the Mark of Grace... _this_ is the Mark of the Fallen," he sighs. "No wonder demons have been so attracted to you all your life. This mark may not have been on you then, but it represents a bloodline that calls to them. Whatever slight amount flowed through your blood was just enough to catch their attention."

"I don't understand, what's the significance of this mark?"

"It basically marks you as the ruler of all supernatural baddies," he shrugs as though it's no big deal. "Basically, Crowley and all the things that go bump in the night... aside from gods, goddesses, harmless creatures from myth with a tendency to help people, and angels. You say 'jump' and they say 'how high my liege'! Well... now that your bloodline has been unleashed thanks to that mark anyway."

Sam's stomach drops at the comment, his face paling. He always wondered why he and Dean were constantly targeted. They learned that as children it was their mother, who had made a deal with Yellow Eyes to save their father's life. Afterward, they had assumed it was because their father set out to kill the demon and drew them into the lives of hunters. To hear this, that all their grief was simply a matter of blood he could do nothing about... it's difficult to take in. He suddenly feels all kinds of guilty for the way their lives turned out.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam," Gabriel whispers. "This was something you simply couldn't foresee... and no one could stop."

Dean wakes a few hours later, his stomach rumbling ferociously. He groans and tries to sit up, every move like he's working with weights shackled to his limbs. Castiel doesn't want to make him feel weak by assisting him, yet when he nearly topples himself out of bed the angel decides his pride can take a backseat for a bit. He stacks a few extra pillows Sam dropped off beneath his back, helping him lean upon them carefully before drawing his blanket up a bit. The hunter bites the inside of his cheek, a low growl begging to fall from his lips at the treatment. A small part of him, however, glows in it and gladly indulges. It's so confusing he just wants to throw up.

"I'll go and get you something to eat," Castiel comments.

"I can get it myself."

"... Okay, go ahead and get up," the angel challenges with a raised brow. "I'll sit right here until you get back, how's that?"

"... You suck, you know that?" Dean huffs.

For all his talk, he knows he won't be going anywhere. Castiel stands up and heads for the door, sending a smug glance Dean's way before disappearing out of the room. The hunter bristles a moment, his irritation stewing before he deflates with a sigh. Castiel is only trying to help, although the green-eyed male is positive his time as a human taught him some aggravating habits.

Charlie peeks her head in the moment she sees the angel walk away, tip-toeing into the room as though that will keep Castiel from noticing her. She's been waiting oh so patiently for far too long, however she can't sit around any longer. The redhead had to sit outside in the hall for a long while, yet once she heard conversation within the room she started creeping closer. The angel can't help but smirk minutely in humor at her antics. He heads downstairs, allowing her to visit the downed hunter for a while.

Sam is down in the kitchen making sandwiches, glowering at Gabriel as he tries to steal some of the toppings. He didn't think Dean could keep down something as solid as a sandwich, so he made a pot of soup for the other. As he fights off Gabriel to keep his sandwiches safe, Castiel grabs a tray and places a bowl of soup and some crackers on it. Though he knows Dean would like beer, he'll have to deal with some juice instead. Hoping the other doesn't put up too much fuss, the angel heads back.


	12. Recuperation and Kid Gloves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Dean is back on his feet, though still too weak for much movement, Sam tries his luck getting him to talk about his feelings toward Cas. He knows it's important the two make up and mate, but Dean is still being stubborn about it. Seeing the hunter take Sam's attempt with hostility, Cas waits to get Dean alone before speaking his mind. Gabriel, however, tries to convince Sam it's not his place to get the two together. Another hunt comes up and Sam relents only if Dean promises to do things his way this time. Unable to sit still any longer, Dean agrees and the two leave with Cas for a haunted house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ NOTE BELOW PLZ:
> 
> Hello everyone! I missed you! XD Anyway, I've been pretty busy, but I did promise an update a day. I have awesome news! I finished 'Flawless', which is another Destiel fic (with a little Sabriel thrown in). Since this fic has quite a ways to go, I figured I'd let you guys decide if I start posting another. Mind you, you still only get ONE update a day. So I'll have to switch between the two. Anyway, if that's what you want just message me. If no one does, I'll take it as a no. =)

It seems like far too long before Dean can move on his own again, though it's only been about twenty-four hours. He's not the type to sit still for long, the restlessness he feels at trying is maddening. That irritation easily fills the entire bunker, affecting nearly everyone... nearly, because Castiel is as patient as ever. Dean still can't hold his weight for very long, however he can get out of bed and roam a little ways before he needs to sit down. All the while, that ever doting angel stays close and tends to him when he's in need of it. He's the only one that can, really, considering Dean won't say anything and Castiel can read his mind. Though Gabriel can as well, he's still liking the whole 'throw Cas to the wolves' idea. Not to mention, he still refuses to trespass upon Dean's mind when he belongs to his little brother.

"I don't need help, damn it!" Dean snaps. "Stop following me around!"

"You almost fell down the stairs, Dean," Castiel points out patiently. "If I hadn't caught you, you wouldn't have managed to keep yourself from doing so. Please, let me help. That's what I'm here for, after all."

"Read my lips! I... don't... need... help!"

He steps forward, his knees wobbling at the weight they're not ready to hold, and then stumbles. Castiel sighs and his hand darts out to wrap around Dean's waist, the hunter sulking as his statement is betrayed by his own body. The angel says nothing, just allows Dean to use him as a crutch and helps him into the kitchen. He would normally never admit the real reason he's pushing Castiel away at this moment, as that would force him to face his feelings, but the strong tingle that travels pleasantly along his nerve endings gives no doubt to those. Dean curses himself mentally as his body heats up at Castiel's touch once again. It's a reaction that's getting seriously old in the hunter's opinion. With each pass of that warmth, it gets that much more difficult to deny.

Sam is alone in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book from the shelves. It seems to be the only way he passes his time anymore, though it shouldn't be much of a surprise. The taller male has always been a bookworm. Dean is surprised Gabriel isn't hanging all over him, though he's grateful they're not screwing on the counter. Walking in on that once was quite enough, thank you. He's set on the stool beside Sam, and then Castiel goes about getting him a drink as well. He wants beer, but the other won't allow him that and gets him coffee instead.

"I thought you were reading my mind," Dean glowers at the cup.

"I am," Castiel replies. "That doesn't mean you'll get everything you want. Sometimes, you'll just have to deal with a healthier alternative."

He grumbles at the comment, yet picks up the cup to drink anyway. He's far too tired to fight now, though he'll be certain to complain as much as possible later. That won't last either, though, the lack of response from Castiel sort of ruins any attempts at pissing him off. Since learning that, Dean's made a mental prank list for when he's feeling better. Right now, however, he can only wait and bide his time. He watches the angel take a seat and wait for him to decide to move. Dean, however, has no intention of it. Not until he can do so himself. He sighs and glances around the place curiously, it's much quieter than the norm. Kevin would usually be here with Sam or in the library reading, yet he can't see him from where he's at now. The lingering smell of eggs and bacon fills the kitchen, their breakfast from this morning. One that was served to the weakened hunter in bed.

"Where is everyone?"

"Gabriel took Charlie and Kevin to town," Sam replies. "She's thinking of getting in contact with Garth, maybe send out a net for other hunters. Apparently, we need more help than we're willing to accept. Kevin went to get out for a bit."

"Dude, we don't need help! Why does everyone think we need help?"

"You can barely stand on your own," Castiel smirks pointedly. "Plus you have a powerful angel looking to end your life... or use you as some sort of bargaining chip. I would say when you're made a target, it's probably best to have others that aren't on your aggressor's radar to help out."

Dean huffs and glares over at the angel, hating the fact he has a point. He's met with humor and resists the urge to throw his cup at the brunette, gripping it tight in his hands and turning away. As much as the urge to lash out is growing stronger, it could never overpower the fact the hunter finds Castiel utterly irresistible. He curses himself mentally, which has curiosity appearing in blue eyes, and does it one more time for forgetting his thoughts are being monitored. His younger brother glances between them, yet says nothing. After a long silence, Sam sends a look toward Castiel and the angel gets up to leave without a word. There's curiosity in green eyes, a slight frown touching one side of Dean's lips, and he regards his brother.

"I wanted to speak with you," Sam comments without looking up from his book. "How are you doing with Cas around you so much? Are you still affected by the memory of your attack?"

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean frowns. "It wasn't Cas and I don't blame him for it. I don't like getting caught off guard by him, but I'm getting a lot better now. Why?"

"Well... he's your soul-mate," Sam states hesitantly. "You two should be working this out, not ignoring it. I want you to be happy and I know Cas makes you happy..."

"... Where's my ice cream?" Dean wonders with a raised brow. "I __distinctly_ _ remember you saying you'd get me a chick flick and some ice cream next time you wanted to talk about my feelings. Where is it?"

"Don't be difficult, Dean! You need to make up with Cas and put all this shit behind you."

Dean slams his cup down, the sound startling his brother. It's nothing new, his temper tantrums, however this one is unexpected. The older Winchester doesn't like talking about his feelings, he never has, and this is no exception. He's just getting over the scarring attack made by a demon wearing Castiel's vessel, he doesn't need Sam dragging it all back up to the surface. He knows he's supposed to be Castiel's soul-mate, knows he's supposed to be deeply in love with the angel, yet still refuses to fall in line with that. He doesn't deserve to be loved by an angel, he's been tainted and was never good enough for him to begin with... he had to pull him from Hell for fuck's sake! That should tell them something, it certainly tells Dean!

"Don't do this," he snaps. "Just don't! I don't need this right now!"

"Talk to me, Dean!" Sam demands. "Stop being such a hard-ass and just tell me how you're feeling! It's not that difficult!"

"I have nothing to say!"

With that, the older brother decides now is the time to get moving. There's no way he's about to sit and listen to his brother bitch like a mother hen. Years of these conversations have finally developed a sixth sense, one that can predict where things are going quickly. He forces himself onto his feet and leans heavily on the counter-top, carefully moving back toward his room. Castiel is in the doorway in seconds, holding a hand out to help the transfer from the counter to the wall. It's taken reluctantly and let go immediately after Dean makes it to the wall.

The room has become both a haven and a prison to Dean, the hunter flopping down on his bed tiredly and burying his face in his pillow. With any luck, he'll suffocate himself during a nap. Castiel sits on the bed beside him, hesitantly reaching toward him. His hand stills halfway to Dean's head, and then a burst of boldness finishes the action. Castiel strokes the hunter's locks softly, attempting to soothe his anger. It draws a sigh from the other, his body instantly relaxing from the attention he rarely allows himself. To save face, however, he just has to comment on it.

"You don't have to do that," Dean mutters.

"You're very upset about something," Castiel replies. "I know we're not on good terms, but that has never stopped your pain from becoming mine as well. I understand your hesitance to acknowledge our newly formed bond, I'm not exactly the type you normally strive to attract..."

"Cas, don't," Dean murmurs. "That's not it, I promise. It doesn't matter to me that you're not some big breasted chick, it _never_ did. I'm just... You deserve so much _better_ than me."

"And yet, __you_ _ are all I want," the angel smiles. "You make me happy, Dean. You and your brother have shown me more kindness, patience, and affection than my own family the whole of my existence. I appreciate that so much, you know. I would like to repay you for that."

Dean has nothing to say to that, stunned Castiel would think such a way. Sure he and his brother sort of took him in and helped him whenever he needed it, yet Dean saw that as them being friends... family even. He never thought twice about it. He never figured that his problems would hurt Castiel as well, he never shared them so that shouldn't have happened.

He sits up and turns himself around, green eyes taking in Castiel's soft smile. It travels all the way into his striking blue eyes, making Dean's stomach do flip-flops. His lips are slightly parted as he gazes upon the angel, affection thick within green pools. He leans closer unconsciously, licking his lips, until he feels warm breath upon his face from Castiel. The hunter forces himself to look away, breaking the spell between them before he does something he'll regret.

"Cas, I'm not good with stuff like this," he admits lamely. "Feelings are just... well... not my thing. It's difficult to talk about them, they're pointless on most occasions, and commitment is an even worse subject. I don't mean to hurt you, I really don't..."

"I'm the one that's hurt you," Castiel remarks. "No matter what I try to do, I always seem to make things worse for you and I apologize for that. You mean so much to me, you always have. I knew from the moment I pulled you from perdition that our paths were entwined, I never wanted it any other way to be perfectly honest. As your brother has said to me... I'm likely the only creature in the world with enough patience to handle being your mate."

"... I hate to admit it, but that's probably true," Dean grumbles.

"I know you're not ready to admit we're bound in such a manner, I don't mind," Castiel sighs, though his tone is sad. "If you need time to think about things, you're welcome to it. I just ask that you include me in your thoughts. I want to help you, Dean, and this isn't something we can wish away. I want to be the mate you deserve, to be there when you need me, but I can't do that unless you allow it."

The comment is so sincere it only serves to make the hunter feel worse. His heart clenches at the thought of not being good enough, of disappointing the angel he's been taken with since they met. With a sigh, he leans forward and rests his forehead on Castiel's shoulder. He allows it and gladly wraps his arms around the other male's back. It fills them both with warmth and settles a blanket of safety around the hunter he's growing familiar with. It just seems so much easier when he doesn't fight it.

Dean rests within the embrace contently, that slight tingle he felt before getting stronger. His heart swells and he breathes in the angel's scent, holding back the groan that wants to break from his lips. Instead, he takes the offered solace and slyly sets his lips against the skin of the angel's neck. If he notices, the shorter male says nothing about it. Castiel rubs small circles on his back, the hunter slowly falling asleep against him. Once his breathing evens out, his mate gently lies him back upon the bed and tucks him in.

"Sleep well, Dean."

Gabriel returns about half an hour later, immediately tracking down Sam so he can persuade him into bed. It starts with sultry looks, a few kisses down the column of his neck, and a hug from behind. Afterward, he gets more bold with a grope to the taller male's ass and a dark hickey at his collarbone. Sam says nothing... not until fingers attempt to slip into his jeans, anyway. He's quick to snatch the wandering hand and smack the trickster upside the head. Needless to say it doesn't work one bit, but he wouldn't be Loki if he didn't try. Charlie and Kevin go back to their chess game, blatantly ignoring the horny archangel's antics. They're now more concerned with staying out of Dean's warpath than worrying about his health. He hasn't exactly been the most agreeable person in the bunker.

"How are they?" Gabriel wonders.

"Still beating around the bush. I swear, is it _really_ that difficult for them to see what's right in front of their faces? If mine and Dean's positions were switched, he would've caught it on the first week!"

"That's because it isn't him. I've noticed that your brother has had difficulties with commitment in the past," the older angel remarks. "In fact, I do believe the only reason he settled down with Lisa and Ben was because it was your dying wish. I don't think he even had both feet in _that_ relationship, no matter how much he felt for her... it wasn't the love he has for Castiel. It was safe and he was content, but he wasn't in love."

"... I don't know what to do," Sam sighs. "Something tells me it's important they're on the same level here, that they need to just give in and be together... but he's fighting me every step of the way!"

"Then perhaps it's for _Castiel_ to garner his attention in that area. He's not blind to what he's been feeling, yet he's not about to push Dean. He knows he'll just end up pushing him away. He may be young for an angel, but he knows what he's doing. Trust him to figure this out."

Sam sighs, yet nods anyway. Though he wants nothing more than to help out his brother, it would seem Castiel needs to be the one to do so this time. As frustrating as it is, the younger Winchester just has to hope they get it together soon. In the meantime, however, Gabriel is more than willing to keep Sam's attention on... other activities.

Dean is in the throws of a nightmare when he's forced awake, his skin drenched in sweat and his green eyes searching the dark frantically for Castiel. The younger angel is beside the bed in his chair, just as Dean left him only hours before. He reaches toward the distraught hunter, caressing his cheek gently and hushing him. He'll have none of that, however, and reaches out to pull the man toward him. Though he'll never admit to anyone, he huddles in that safe embrace. He's nearly sitting on Castiel's lap as he shivers from lingering fear. Castiel hates seeing him like this, such a feared hunter broken down by a simple nightmare. He tucks Dean's head beneath his chin and holds him securely, whispering assurances to keep that fear at bay. Once he can breath a little easier, Dean pulls away slightly and gazes into blue eyes.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Castiel wonders.

"I had a nightmare," he mumbles. "Only... it didn't _feel_ like a nightmare. If felt like someone was trying to force their way into my head... I didn't like it. Their presence was nothing like yours was when we first met, it was so much darker. They seemed so angry..."

"You're okay now, Dean. I'm right here. As long as I'm close to you, their chances of entering your dreams successfully are drastically reduced," he assures. "To trespass on the mind of an angel's mate is unthinkable and draws a horrid punishment... no matter the creature responsible."

Dean nods, yet there's a little voice that still calls out to Castiel mentally. He's scared and won't admit it, this whole deal with Kushiel and all these nightmares on top of this new bond is just too much for Dean to handle. Slowly, so as not to alarm the hunter, Castiel scoots him over and lies beside him. He knows it isn't much, but that little voice from Dean's mind quiets and the hunter sighs out his relief.

Without thinking too much into it, the green-eyed hunter turns to curl up closer to Castiel. It isn't long before he's back under the spell of sleep, one arm draped over Castiel's stomach languidly. The angel smiles to himself, carefully wrapping Dean in his arms and setting the hunter's head on his chest. As he lies there, he runs his fingers through Dean's hair. It's a calming motion, something that has the hunter practically purring in his sleep.

The next morning, Sam is downstairs with Gabriel. They're all going stir-crazy within the bunker, Charlie using her free time to search for any jobs nearby. She's found a few good ones, yet Sam is still uncertain about heading off to deal with anything like this at the moment. Needing to get out for a while, she and Kevin decide to go on a hunt for a ghost three towns over. It'll be easier for them to get around since Gabriel brought her car there with the snap of his fingers. Uncertain of their ability to stay out of trouble, Sam had the angel accompany them.

"Everyone is gone again?" Dean frowns. "Dude, am I seriously that bad when I'm sick?"

"Uh... yeah, yeah you are."

"... Damn, someone could've _said_ something," he grumbles. "So, where'd they go?"

"On a job. Just a ghost, nothing more. I had Gabriel make certain of it before they left," Sam offers. "Charlie found quite a few jobs, but I don't think..."

"Let's get going!" the older hunter grins. "I've been __dying_ _ to get out of here. Now that I can hold my own weight again, I could do with some exercise."

Sam is quiet for a long while, fingers steeped before his mouth, and Dean knows without a doubt he's going to attempt breaking some bad news to him. His hopes fall a bit, his brows wrinkling in worry. Castiel isn't with him at the moment and he's really feeling that absence. He needs to get out, needs to get some fresh air. Ever since he can remember, he's dealt with everything by hunting. Regret, anger, sadness, emotions he simply can't or doesn't want to face. Everything he's buried down deep has stayed there because he's kept hunting, kept his body moving and his mind too busy to think about anything else. Sam can't take this away from him, not now. Not with all these nightmares starting up.

"Dean, I don't think that's a good idea," the younger Winchester argues. "There's a powerful fallen angel with their sights set on you, you shouldn't just jump headlong into her arms! You're not one hundred percent yet, you're still a bit weak, and you _never_ listen when we're on a job! You'll end up running off on your own and getting hurt again!"

"This is bullshit, Sammy! I can take care of myself and you know it!" Dean snaps. "I just need to get out, okay? We can do something easy. __Anything_ _ is better then spending one more day cooped up in that damn bedroom!"

"I don't know..."

"Sammy, please," he practically begs. "I hate sitting still, you know that. I need to get out of here, just for a few days. I need a job."

"... Okay, but only if you swear to stay with either me or Cas the whole time," Sam frowns. "I don't want to see you dead again, okay? I don't think I could handle that, whether you stay that way or not. It's like Gabriel's damn lesson all over again!"

"Alright, I swear I'll let you guys play bodyguard, okay? Now let's go!"

Sam doesn't worry about Gabriel not finding him, the angel has been bothering him mentally all fucking day! The younger hunter has already wished a million times over they never developed a link with telepathy, yet managed to comfort himself with the knowledge he can strangle the other when they're face to face again. On that brighter note, he helps Dean pack their bags. Castiel carries the older hunters bags, securely looping his free arm around the hunter's waist. Dean leans heavily against his side, not out of necessity but out of want, and the trio heads to the car.

The impala rumbles pleasantly as they drive toward the newly chosen job, Castiel in the backseat and Dean in the passenger one. He wanted to drive, however Sam isn't ready to trust him not to fall asleep behind the wheel. The green-eyed hunter is snoozing with his head against the window as it is. He breathing is even and his arms are crossed over his chest almost protectively. The two still awake can't help but think he looks adorable at that moment.

"Hopefully this won't be too much work for him," Sam sighs.

"You should put more faith in your brother," Castiel remarks. "He's far more capable than you seem to believe, he just needs to stretch his legs a bit. Besides, I would never allow anything to harm him, Sam. I'll keep close to him at all times."

"I know, I just... he seems so weak at the moment. What if we're caught off guard?"

"He'll be fine, I assure you of that," Castiel presses. "I can take adequate care of him, I promise. You shouldn't worry so much."

Sam sighs in a bit of defeat, yet says nothing more. Castiel has proven to be more than capable of protecting Dean, though his methods haven't always been the best. If he says Dean won't be harmed, the younger hunter can do nothing more than agree. He taps the wheel restlessly, finally deciding to reach over and turn on the radio. Metallica blares from the speakers and he's quick to turn the volume down so it doesn't wake Dean. His brother does nothing more than smile in his sleep and snuggle closer to the glass.

The town they pull into is quaint and small. The main strip has a small bar, a grocery store, post office, and gas station. A few mom and pop shops are scattered about the area, however most of the place is filled with white picket fences and two story houses. Children are running about in play, their mothers chatting in small groups and their fathers out doing lawn work for the weekend. A couple kids walking their dogs head past the impala, the car stopped at a red light beside the sidewalk. One of the dogs, a Labrador, leaps up and starts barking at the passenger side. Dean is startled awake from the noise, looking about frantically before calming down. The dog is pulled back and the children move on, laughing about the look on the hunter's face.

"Mm... how long was I out?" Dean mumbles with a deep stretch.

"A few hours," Sam smirks. "I was going to wake you for lunch, but Castiel told me to let you sleep. He has some snacks in the back for you."

Without being asked, the angel hands a small bag to Dean. There's a bag of chips, some fruit, a bottle of water, and a cold-cut sandwich inside the plastic. He sighs at the lack of junk food and burgers, yet digs in anyway. He's not about to worry Castiel even more by not eating. He can practically feel the pleased gaze from the angel on his back... it floods him with warmth and affection. Once he's finished, he throws his garbage into the bag and balls it up.

"So... tell me about the job."

"It's nothing too big, just a haunted house," Sam remarks. "Only one or two spirits, likely children. I haven't really looked into it further than that, I wanted to get us settled first. The only place they have to stay around here is a dingy motel, it's just down this street by the gas station."

"What's the plan once we get there?"

Sam is silent for a short while, worry on his brow. Dean doesn't like the look and turns his gaze out the window in response to it, catching Castiel's reflection in his side-view mirror. The angel is watching out the window as well, seemingly unperturbed by the conversation in the front seat. It's likely he's not even listening, or is playing the silent guardian... taking everything in and providing no opinion as long as he's not asked.

"We check out the house's history, make sure we know everything we need to, and then we'll go talk to the owners," Sam sighs. "I don't want to run into this blind, okay? I made us each a charm pouch to keep us from being detected by anything supernatural, so we should be relatively safe from any sudden attacks, and Castiel has agreed to fortify our room with sigils."

"Awesome," Dean smiles. "That's a great plan. I'll just go around and ask questions about the place while you guys take care of that."

"You'll be staying with me, Dean," Castiel offers suddenly. "You're not to leave my side. Sam and I have already discussed this matter, we've agreed to put an end to the job and head back to the bunker should you wander off on your own."

"What!" the green-eyed hunter shouts. "Are you fucking kidding me? I don't need a damn babysitter!"

"I believe the term you used before was 'bodyguard'," the angel reminds him.

Dean groans and let's his head fall back against the headrest, closing his vivid green orbs as he silently curses himself for agreeing to such a thing. The last thing he wants is for someone to be tailing him the whole time he's out. Then again, technically he did die on their last mission. He can only imagine the kind of hurt that put Castiel through... he knows _he_ wouldn't be capable of functioning had their positions been switched. He shakes off the thought, attempting to convince himself he doesn't actually care that much, and decides to let the conversation end there.

The motel isn't completely seedy, but it most definitely isn't as nice as most of the places they've stayed. There are two beds, as usual, and a nice sized bathroom. The heater is working just fine, though it's a little warm for their liking. Castiel grabs a dry erase marker and starts scribbling down the sigils on the walls, Sam setting his laptop on the small round table to begin his research, and Dean... well, he just collapses on a bed to sleep for a while.

Castiel sets down the black marker when he finishes his task, glancing toward Dean curiously. He hasn't made a single sound in the last half hour, save for an occasional sleepy mumble. Sam is still busy with his studies, his nose in the laptop and his attention adrift upon the web. With a soft intake of breath, Castiel moves toward Dean's bed and reaches out to touch him. He doesn't notice when the sound of clicking keys stops or when the younger Winchester glances his way. Carefully, he brushes his fingers through Dean's short hair. A small smirk touches his lips contently at the soft feeling of the locks, the angel gazing upon his soul-mate lovingly. Dean sighs and moves toward the touch, humming in his sleep... a soft sound of approval.

"Cas."

He jumps a bit, startled at the sudden voice, and jerks his hand away from Dean. Large blue eyes turn to Sam, his features twisted in surprise and a loss for what to do now. The taller male can't help but chuckle at the look, turning it to one of confusion.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Sam smiles. "I just didn't want you feeling like you had to hide your affection for Dean. I mean, we're family. I don't mind if you guys hold hands or kiss... you know... couple stuff. I don't intend on hiding that stuff when Gabriel is around and you shouldn't feel obligated to do so now. I don't mind."

"... Dean might."

"Screw him," Sam snorts derisively. "He wouldn't know what's good for him if it came up and bit him in the ass. You're just gonna have to show more initiative, you know... press your dominance or something. If you keep letting him walk all over you, he'll just keep doing it."

Castiel looks down at Dean once more, one hand hesitantly reaching over to caress his cheek. When the other moves into his touch once again, the angel can't help but continue the action. Sam just shakes his head, a smile playing upon his lips. He's reminded of all the times people mistook him and Dean as a couple in the past, how they always assumed Dean was the submissive of the two... perhaps they weren't too far off in that assumption.

Dean wakes a few minutes later, finding Castiel sitting by his bedside contently. Sam is sleeping at the table, head resting on folded arms as his laptop lies open before him. No doubt the screen is dark. He stretches and sits up, regarding Castiel for a moment before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Nice artwork," he comments. "How long did it take you?"

"Around half an hour," Castiel admits. "I took my time. You seemed quite comfortable, so I didn't bother to wake you up."

"Yeah, well... now I'm hungry," Dean grins. "Let's go out to eat, I think I saw a little diner down the street."

"... I don't know, Dean. Shouldn't we wait for Sam to wake?"

Dean throws a shoe at his brother, startling him from his sleep and nearly knocking his laptop off the table. He earns a glare and the shoe is chucked back at his head, the older hunter laughing as he dodges. Castiel catches it from the air, the unfortunate target when Dean managed to dodge, and hands it back to the green-eyed male. Once his shoes are back on, Dean is practically dragging the taller of them out of the room. The angel follows after them, shaking his head in exasperation. The trio finds the town still and quiet outside of their room, none of them worried about an ambush or anything of the sort. This is a typical job, no need to worry about Kushiel at the moment, and they're more than willing to take their time. Hopefully, this peace lasts throughout their time here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had that stupid Lego Movie song stuck in my head all day =( That 'Everything is Awesome' one? From the moment I woke up at 9:50 it's been running about my head... I've even spontaneously broke out singing it. It's such an infectious song T^T


	13. Halloween Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is decorated for Halloween, the worst holiday for hunters, and the Winchesters can't help wondering what will go wrong this time. Their target, a large house people claim eats anyone that goes inside, has too many rumors circling it. Information is difficult to gather, which makes the hunt harder. Delving deeper into the house's background, the Winchesters realize they'll have to enter the house tonight... which means they won't be completely prepared. On the way, Dean makes an enemy of a teenager and he makes sure to stalk the hunter with his friends. As the house has a specific number it takes on Halloween, when they enter the house they realize that number will be met if the teenagers follow. If that's not bad enough, upon splitting up to search Dean gets separated from Cas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know my weather probably hasn't followed my seasons well ^^; I honestly didn't think I'd be going into Fall or Halloween... it just seemed like a good idea at the time ;p That's normally how I work XD

The sun is the only thing laying a splash of warmth upon the world today, though it's nearly killed by the breeze. Dean used to love Halloween, even though his father never let them participate in their youth. Ever since Lilith broke the seal that freed a creature with the ability to raise the dead... yeah, he hasn't found the appeal since. Granted, killing a cemetery of zombies on Halloween sounds like the perfect way to spend such a holiday for a hunter. He just never found interest in it after that, not when he was nearly killed by a witch _again_. He sighs and wraps his arms around himself, tucking his hands between his arms and torso for a little bit of warmth. They were going stir-crazy in the hotel, so they decided a nice long walk would be perfect.

The green-eyed hunter shivers horribly at the chill in the air. Sam is wearing a Carhart, so he's perfectly warm, and Castiel doesn't feel the cold anymore now that he's an angel again. Dean, however, is really wishing he had bought a heavier coat. He's had nothing but his jean jacket for the longest time now, he should probably invest in a warmer one. Castiel glances his way, frowning slightly before taking off his trench coat. He drapes it over Dean's shoulders, drawing him close to tuck him against his side.

“Thank god,” Dean groans out. “Mm, Cas, you're like a fucking furnace.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not now,” he snorts out.

Castiel smiles softly at the comment, tightening his hold on Dean's waist. Throughout the morning, children have been slowly filtering into the streets. They're mostly just showing off their costumes, their parents letting them play before getting ready for trick-or-treating. As they pass the trio, all eyes linger on Dean and Castiel. Whispers start up, the women quick to gossip about something they don't see everyday. When the hunter feels Castiel's arm loosen, he quickly presses tightly against the warm side to assure him it's okay. He's glad when that arm returns to the strong embrace of before, a relieved sigh leaving his nose.

They're heading to the old haunted house, though they aren't planning on entering it. The plan is to just see what they can make out from outside the gates. They were also eager to see if anyone along the way could fill them in on the house's history. Surprisingly, the rumors on the place are vast and no one is shy about telling their versions. Sam jots down as much as he can, allowing Dean to stay warm beside the angel holding him. This is a rare moment for his brother, so he's not about to ruin it.

The autumn air is crisp and smells of the cold and recent rainfall, though there are no puddles on the ground to hint at it. A thousand different colors of leaves drift through the air, even more lying in piles or strewn about lawns yet to be raked. It's beautiful and Dean has always loved this part of the fall, all the colors and the memories of jumping in leaf piles at Bobby's. He glances over to the man holding him, catching the confusion on his face. He knows it's only a matter of time before Castiel speaks his mind.

“This doesn't seem like the All Hollows Eve _I_ remember,” he murmurs. “Why are these parents letting their children celebrate the evils of the world in such a manner? They should be warding their houses to keep those evils away.”

“Things changed, Cas,” Sam chuckles. “I don't know when, but the old traditions slowly turned into holidays for children. They dress up and go out to get candy now. They probably don't even know what All Hallows Eve _is_ anymore.”

“They're in danger.”

“Don't worry, Cas, their parents are with them,” Dean smiles. “Safety in numbers, right?”

“... I suppose so.”

He watches the children fondly, little girls dressed as angels and princesses giggling as they run past. A few little boys are dressed as super heroes, though Cas is positive the one that looks like Thor is mimicking the god himself. He's quiet as his eyes take in the entirety of the town, never having really observed this tradition after it was changed. Dean and Sam are surprised when he actually snickers at the sight of a little vampire chihuahua. It stops, barking in indignation at the sound before holding its head high and walking off. The owner murmurs an apology as they pass, a blush on her face at the sight of Castiel with his arm around Dean. The hunter grins wickedly at the sight, almost upset they're nearly to their destination.

The house is the epitome of a haunted house, complete with creeping vines all over the sides. The porch is rickety and the roof over it is slanted, the support beam cracked and waiting to fall. Circular stones that make up the path are cracked, broken, and worn. The tall wrought iron fence is missing bars in a few places, a few of them bent at odd angles, and one of the gates are leaning heavily on the other. One of its hinges has rusted to the point of snapping. It appears that, although the sky is perfectly clear throughout the town it's darker over the house. Dean can just see the flash of lightening and hear the crack of thunder, his imagination providing him with a horror flick's haunted house.

“... Please tell me I'm just imagining the lightening and thunder,” he murmurs.

“Dean, the skies are completely clear. There's no reason for either at this point in time,” Castiel remarks in confusion.

“Oh good! Then I was imagining it,” he smiles in relief. “The last thing I want is to live through another horror flick... the Halloween we spent tracking that shape shifter was enough.”

Sam nods, completely agreeing with that. The shape shifter had taken the form of the greatest movie monsters; the werewolf, Dracula, and even the mummy. He didn't, however, take the form of Frankenstein. Instead, he had strapped Dean to the large table intending to electrocute him. It wasn't one of Dean's favorite hunts, that's for sure.

They stare at the house, a thousand questions running through their minds. They can't feel anything from this distance, which likely means they really are dealing with a ghost. Unfortunately, the feeling of unease hasn't left. After their quick survey, the trio turns around to head back. They still have time for research before taking on their mission.

On the way back to the hotel, they stop for some lunch at the small mom and pop diner. The place is decorated in jack-o-lanterns and cutout witches, purple and black streamers hanging from the ceiling. Outside are a few hay bales stacked in a pyramid, some pumpkins and a fake black cat set out with them. It's very festive and the hunters even catch a bowl of candy sitting on the counter-top for any children. They take a seat in a corner booth, Dean setting Castiel's trench coat on the booth beside him for the moment.

“Man, it feels good in here,” he sighs out. “Much warmer than outside.”

“Well, it _is_ fall outside,” Castiel points out. “It's _supposed_ to be cold. You can thank Persephone for that, though I wouldn't suggest it... she's very touchy about her time with Hades.”

“I would be, too,” Sam remarks.

“I'd much rather be bound to an angel than the king of the underworld,” Dean murmurs without really thinking about it.

The look on Castiel's face is priceless; one part shock and two parts pride. The boys withhold the laughter they want to voice at the expression. Their waitress roams over, her costume that of a black cat, and Castiel stares at the ears atop her head. They're the battery powered ones, so they move about every now and then.

“What's it gonna be, boys?” she asks.

“The garden salad and water with lemon,” Sam remarks.

“Health freak,” Dean mutters. “I'll have the bacon cheeseburger with a cherry coke.”

“And you, hon?”

“... Uh... just a coffee.”

She nods and walks away with their orders. It doesn't take long for her to return, setting down their things carefully. Dean takes no time at all to dig into his burger and fries, relishing the taste just as much as he would an orgasm. It brings a blush to Castiel's face. The angel nurses his coffee, not wanting to finish before the boys do. Once Sam pushes his empty plate away and Dean has sent a sad look at his own, the trio pay and get up to leave. Their hotel isn't far from there and they don't stop again until they're within the safety of those four walls.

Dean almost immediately drops down on the end of the closest bed, yet this time he pulls Castiel down next to him. Without a second thought, the hunter slides off his borrowed trench coat and lays his hand atop Castiel's thigh. Sam sits at the table, turning on his laptop with a sigh. All those rumors and still they're no closer to learning about the ghost.

“Man, you'd think we'd have everything we need!” Dean gripes. “How can so many rumors be so different? The only thing they had in common was that the house was haunted and people vanish in it at Halloween!”

“Every legend has a grain of truth, Dean,” Castiel informs in that husky voice. “Even such a vast array of them. If we look hard enough, we'll find a pattern.”

“No need to look harder,” Sam smirks. “I just looked up the kids that vanished within the last ten years... all of them were bullies and dared to spend the night in the house. They were mostly teenagers, seven kids in all each year. A group of nine went one year, two females were the only ones to make it out.”

Dean is all ears, shocked at this turn of events. His hand tightens on Castiel's thigh, the angel sucking in a sharp breath at the feeling of it. A jolt of desire strikes him, yet it's pushed away just as quickly as it forms. This isn't the time and his hunter is still quite shy about their relationship, he'll just have to wait a little longer. He forces his mind from the fog that's quickly spreading, his attention directed at Sam more than Dean now. Should it stay on the green-eyed hunter, he just might do something to push him away.

“Okay, so what's the story?” Dean wonders.

“The house has been owned by the same family for over fifty years, but it's appeared vacant for the last ten. The woman that owned it then, an Amelia Taggert, was a practicing wiccan and owned a prosperous herbal remedy shop. Ten years ago, a group of nine teenagers broke into her home. She called the authorities immediately, but by the time they got to the house... she was missing and the teens were gone,” Sam says in his 'storyteller' voice. “No one saw her again until the next Halloween, where they caught her decorating her yard. A few people glimpsed her through the windows of her house. That Halloween, seven of the nine teenagers that broke in the year before returned. None of them made it out of the house a second time. Since then, seven kids have gone missing each year.”

“Awesome,” Dean mutters. “And seven more will disappear _tonight_ if we don't stop her first. Did they mention if they found her body?”

“No body, they thought the events scared her into a reclusive life. They think she's still alive there, just... too scared to come out.”

Dean shifts on the bed, unconsciously moving closer to Castiel, and hums to himself in thought. A witch's ghost that only kidnaps victims on Halloween. Why would she bother? He puts his mind to the test, racking his brain of any scenario that might have happened. What reason did these teenagers have to break into her home and why would she target bullies? Then, like the imaginary lightening bolt at the haunted house, an idea strikes Dean.

“They broke in to harm her,” he remarks. “Seven teenagers broke into her house on Halloween to scare the witch, a creature of Halloween. That would've been the perfect prank on such a holiday, to trick the witch. Since it was basically _her_ holiday, she would've probably been really hard to scare. Look back at all the police calls she made on Halloween, okay? See how many of them were done by teenagers.”

Sam does as told, surprised to see that she called the cops at least once a year on a group of teenagers since she moved in. That's five years of constant tricks on her and her home. At first there was just little things; toilet paper strung through her trees and on her house, eggs broken all over her home, bags of dog poop on her doorstep. After a couple years, though, they started getting meaner. Dead animals were dropped off on her doorstep, threats and pentagrams painted in what looked to be blood on her house, people breaking her windows and howling outside her living room all night, and even a couple break ins where her things were destroyed. There was one incident where she was attacked by a teenaged male, a bucket of animal blood thrown on her as they cackle. All these attempts were met with a glower and not an ounce of fear.

“What do you think?” Sam wonders.

“Prank gone horribly wrong,” Dean shrugs. “Whatever they did killed her. They probably would've hidden the body in the house, obviously no one's gone there since. When they saw her decorating the next year, they would've gone back in to see what the hell was going on. They would've known she was dead and couldn't possibly have been the one there. They break in again and this time she's ready for them. They pay for her murder, but it's not enough to settle her wronged spirit.”

“So... we're gonna have to go into the house tonight,” Sam sighs.

“Let's get some sleep now, we'll want to be wide awake for this.”

He nods and shuts his laptop, stretching once he stands. Dean moves over to the other bed, kicking off his shoes and sliding beneath the blankets, and Sam takes up the abandoned one. Dean watches Castiel a long moment, the other staring out the small window by the front door. His stance is nervous and he has that lost look upon his face. Its obvious there's a desire within blue eyes, yet he's refusing himself the opportunity to act upon it. Suddenly, the bed seems so cold. The green-eyed hunter clears his throat to get Castiel's attention, patting the bed in invitation once those eyes are on him. There's a slight blush on his face, which he manages to brush off, and the angel can't help thinking it's the cutest thing he's ever seen. He joins Dean on the bed, planning on laying atop the covers. The hunter, however, helps him out of his suit jacket and shoes before pulling him beneath the blankets. It isn't long before Dean is fast asleep, his head resting on Castiel's chest and the angel's arms wrapped around him.

That's how Sam finds them when he rouses, a small smirk touching his lips before he throws a pillow at his older brother. For the first time in forever, Dean is dead asleep and the pillow doesn't even get a groan of complaint from him. Castiel knows he's awake now, though, and he carefully dislodges himself from Dean. Just the slightest of movements from the angel has the hunter jerking awake. Sam can't help snickering at his brother, though even that doesn't manage to break past his fog of sleepiness.

“Dude, I feel _awesome_ ,” Dean remarks. “If I get sleep that good each time you're with me, I have no problems doing that _every_ night!”

“Dean, can you go pack the bag for tonight?” Sam wonders. “Cas can go with you, I'm going to clean up here a little bit. We don't need a bunch of brats breaking in to find all this shit.”

“Alright. Be right back.”

Castiel is never far from Dean, the two heading down to the parking lot. The impala isn't far from their door, just within the splash of the security light, and he's pleased to see it's untouched. He opens the trunk and rubs his hands together, stopping quickly upon seeing some teenaged boys walking their way. They're wearing the jackets of football players, the grins on their faces leaving no doubt to the mischief they've been up to. At first, the hunter rummages around in the bags they left back there in an attempt to wait out the passing males. Unfortunately, they aren't going anywhere soon. Eventually, he shuts the trunk and lifts himself up to sit on it. Castiel is drawn to stand between his legs, his forearms resting on Dean's thighs languidly. Not really caring what others think, Dean pulls Castiel closer until their lips touch.

“I can feel your emotions through our bond,” Castiel murmurs against those lips. “They're so conflicted, Dean. You should really talk them out with someone, if not me.”

“We'll talk, I promise,” Dean sighs reluctantly. “But there's no way in hell I'm talking with Sammy about it. He'll go all Dr. Phil on me and shit.”

The boys are loitering against some cars across from the impala, one is probably waiting for privacy to break into the nice mustang there. Two of them are dressed as zombies, one as a modern day vampire, and the last is a ghoul. That's the one that's staring at them openly. It's easy to tell Castiel doesn't like them, the scowl on his features directed solely at them and softening when he turns to Dean. After what seems hours, or at least long enough for Dean's hands to turn to ice, the fake ghoul steps closer.

“You two are supposed to be dressed as those lame characters from that Supernatural series, aren't you?” he questions.

“If it's so lame, why the hell are you _reading_ it?” Dean asks affronted.

“I don't, my sister does. She can't shut the fuck up about it, says she's just waiting for this angel guy to finally bang the hunter he's supposed to be protecting. Do you two bang? That's who you're supposed to be right? I bet you guys are screwing like rabbits in the privacy of your hotel.”

This has the other three boys turning their attention quickly and Dean wishes he hadn't said anything to begin with. They approach the two like hyena's going for a carcass, those mischievous grins twisting into sadistic ones. Dean is suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable, glancing toward the hotel to gauge how fast he can get there. The chill upon the wind turns icy at the expressions sent his way. These boys are looking for tricks, any treats they get will be taken by force if necessary. For some reason, having Castiel there soothes his nerves.

He keeps himself between the boys and Dean, his eyes darting between them all when they start to fan out. They seem to follow the lead of the mini Dracula, the boy grinning widely as he eyes Dean. He may be a football player, but the hunter would bet his impala he's on the wrestling team as well. He has to be a senior, his body the same height as Dean but far more muscular. He's probably thinking he can best both males easily... but he'd be wrong. Dean is trained to take down things far larger than this annoying prat and Castiel is a fucking _angel_ , there's nothing he can't destroy with a single touch... not that Dean wants these kids destroyed.

“I've heard about you two,” the fake vampire grins. “You're the two fags roaming our streets. Just passing through, I'm sure. So which is the bitch? Is it you, green-eyes? I have to admit you're pretty enough to turn a straight man gay.”

“Do _not_ speak to my mate so disrespectfully!” Castiel spits out.

“Cas, please,” Dean murmurs as he slides off the trunk. “They're just kids, they're not worth freaking out over.”

The angel gives a huff, yet doesn't move from his spot. The struggle within heavenly blue eyes is obvious, Castiel trying hard to keep from smiting these punks threatening his mate. Dean never thought having a possessive lover would turn him on so much. He sucks in a sharp breath at the feeling of utter bliss, closing his eyes to calm the arousal that wants to take over. One of the costumed zombies moves forward, forcing Castiel's attention on him, and the vampire teen takes that opportunity to grab Dean and pin him to the side of the trunk. He tries to break free, yet the ghoul helps hold him down. Just when Castiel is about to go off and kill the lot of them, the vampire takes a knife from his pocket. It's a hunting knife, razor sharp and tucked neatly beneath the hunter's neck. The irony doesn't escape Dean.

“Not so fast,” the teenager bites out. “You stay where you are, or I'll kill your precious bitch.”

“You have no idea who you're pissing off,” Castiel growls out shakily.

His rage is obvious, the growl completely inhuman, and it makes the teenagers hesitate. It only lasts a moment though, the two zombies taking up posts between Castiel and their friends. A hand grips Dean's belt and makes short work of it, the knife passed on to the ghoul who keeps it just close enough to strike quickly. It won't harm Dean if the little asshole behind him gets too excited.

He growls his annoyance when his fly is unzipped and the button is popped, a small part of him wondering why he's always the one in these situations. Then again, Sam has had enough creatures in him to make up for it... though it wasn't this intimate and scarring. When his jeans are tugged down his green eyes go wide and he shivers against the cold. A finger plays with the waistband of his boxers, teasing and threatening at the same time. And then... thank the lord something happens to stop it!

“Excuse me, but what the hell do you think you're doing?” Sam asks.

He's in his FBI get up and Dean has honestly never loved his brother's love of drama more than this moment. The teens look up, the eyes hostile at the interruption. The second they see the much taller man, the grip on Dean loosens. Sam flashes his badge and opens his mouth to speak, yet that's all it takes. Those little brats are running off with their tails tucked behind their legs. Castiel carefully pulls up Dean's jeans, sneaking in a teasing touch to the skin above his boxer's waistband. The hunter holds back a moan, yet can't hide the shiver. For the first time that day, he's glad they're out in the cold.

Once he's fixed his jeans, he looks back in the direction the boys ran. It only takes a moment and the Winchester brothers are breaking into laughter. The thought of a bunch of teenagers falling for a costume, on Halloween no less, is just absurd. Dean is leaning into Castiel as he laughs, one arm around his stomach as tears come to his eyes, and that's the only thing keeping him on his feet. Sam has already crouched down to lean against the impala's tire.

“I hate to break up your happiness, but... we should really get the things needed for this mission,” Castiel comments. “Should I pack the bag, or do you want to?”

“N-no, I... I got it,” Dean gasps out between laughter.

He manages to calm himself, kicking at Sam's foot when he opens the trunk. The taller of the two forces his mirth away, wiping tears from his eyes as he stands. He grabs a second bag and they both toss in the basics for ghost banishment; salt, lighter fluid, a flashlight, a crowbar, sawed off shot guns packed with rock salt... extra rock salt. They slip a couple knives on their person and a pistol filled with rock salt, and then zip up their bags.

The walk to the house wasn't that long, so they decide to leave the impala in the parking lot and head out. By now the sun is setting and the little children are out to get candy. A small kid in a sheet runs by, a pumpkin bucket held tightly in one hand. Behind him is a little witch and a ladybug, both holding their mother's hand. Across the street is a boy dressed as Thor and another as the Hulk, they're walking with their father. Porch lights have blinked on in the shade of dusk, the sun losing yet another battle with the moon. Though it hasn't completely vanished beneath the horizon, it's only a matter of time. This time, the house is looming and sitting beneath a collection of dark clouds. The flash of lightening isn't in Dean's imagination.

“Okay, I know I have problems with my imagination, but... are those future rapists following me?” he wonders quietly.

“I've sensed them for the last few blocks,” Castiel sighs. “But they've stayed out of my area, so I'm rather happy with that.”

“... Area?” Sam wonders.

“Typically angels _share_ space, but when an alpha angel locates their mate they create an area... or territory... around them. Depending on the threat, the area shrinks or expands. Humans aren't much of a threat, so the area isn't that large. Only a block at the most.”

Dean's mind is caught in a static blur, the sheer possessiveness rattling his normally unshakable resolve. His libido has been touchy as of late, answering no one but Castiel... even if Dean doesn't want it to. Right now, it's singing for the angel's touch. He quiets it by making empty promises, though he knows they may not be as empty as he hopes.

“We'll need to finish this quickly,” Dean mutters.

“Why?” the taller male wonders as he pushes open the gates marginally.

“Uh, _hello_! I thought you were supposed to be a super smart college geek! Is your math seriously that bad? Three of us, four teenage assholes... that makes _seven_. If we don't gank this ghost fast and those dumb asses follow us in, we're _all_ goners!”

“... Then let's get going.”

They squeeze through the gates, the chain wrapped around them stretching with a rattle. It's like stepping into a horror film, the grass crunching underfoot as though it were winter. It's black and dead, the trees are bare and twisted. For a moment Dean can see the house up ahead as though it were Frankenstein's castle and they're the angry mob about to break in.

A tree's limbs reach out and grab the trench coat Dean is still wearing, the hunter stopping a moment to untangle the thin branches. When he steps forward again, he runs straight into Sam's back. The taller brother's foot is stuck between the uneven cracks of the sidewalk. Though he wants nothing more than to enjoy this moment, the eerie call of the house at the end of the walkway kills his humor. He helps Sam pull his foot free, the two catching up with Castiel. The angel rarely ever stands still, so he's managed to put a few feet between them before settling for pacing.

Dean is the first to step onto the stairs leading to the porch. The wood groans beneath his weight, snapping cleanly through the middle before he touches the next one. He gasps when he falls right through, Castiel grabbing him around the waist to keep him from face-planting into the porch. He carefully dislodges the hunter's foot and pulls him away from the dilapidated stairs. It's only a second before Sam is frantically hitting his brother's leg with his bag. The metal and heavy objects bruise his skin though Sam tries to be gentle, and Dean is frantically trying to get away.

“What the hell, Sammy! That fucking hurts!” he shouts.

“You're covered in fucking spiders!” he shouts. “Huge, black, hairy spiders!”

One of them flies into the air, landing a few inches from Dean, and the hunter suddenly forgets his years of training. He's practically crawling into Castiel's arms, yelling at his brother to kill the damn things. It's such an uncharacteristic sight, so wrought with humor, that Castiel can't hide the obvious enjoyment at the scene. Once the brothers have stomped over each and every one of the enormous spiders, stopping to lean over and catch their breath, they take in the stairs again. Dean pushes Sam toward them this time, making his brother brave them now that he knows what's waiting for them.

The stairs don't break again, much to their relief. They face the front door now, the roof overhead groaning in the wind. The door's hinges are rusted, just like everything else, and there's no reason to pick the lock. One good foot from Sam has the wooden barrier flying open, leaving them to step through the open portal. The trio no sooner piles into the house, that the roof over the porch crashes down behind them. The brothers jump at the loud crash, looking behind them to see their exit barred.

Taking in deep, calming breathes they turn to face the house. Dean's fingers fumble around for a light switch, flipping it on the minute he finds it. The lights are dim, but they work. Sam sends him a glower, which he responds to with an innocent face. It's not like he knew the lights would work, it's just habit to turn on a switch when entering a room. Without another word, the trio takes in the quiet hall they're in.

The interior matches the Victorian design outside, all antiques and garishly designed rugs and wallpaper. The musty smell within the house is strong and tinted with an underlying scent of blood and death, it makes Dean's head spin. He gags and moves over to the nearest rug... it's not like anyone would notice if his puke added to the design or anything. The wallpaper is curling and missing in some places, dust coating everything in thick layers, and a few of the windows are broken. Their shards litter the floor.

“So... where to begin,” Dean murmurs.

“I'll take the first floor and the basement,” Sam remarks quietly. “You two check the second floor and the attic, okay?”

“That's acceptable,” Castiel nods. “Let's go, Dean.”

“... You'll be okay, Sammy?”

He's answered with a confident nod, the taller male heading into the next room. Dean just shakes his head and moves toward the stairway. It's carpet is tattered, the banister missing a few rungs and a chunk of the top railing. At the bottom of the stairs is a splattered stain that could've been from blood, it sends a shiver through Dean that's nothing like the ones Castiel invokes. The carpet near it is torn and frayed, a piece of it curled over itself. He doesn't think anything of it, brushing off the quiet thumping as his imagination.

He carefully steps onto the first step, slowly placing his entire weight on the groaning piece of wood. Castiel is at the ready to grab hold of him, the angel unwilling to allow the other to fall through again. The going is slow and the brunette wishes Dean would allow him to fly them both to the second floor. Unfortunately, the hunter wants to be certain the second floor can hold them.

When they step into the hall of the second floor, lined with doors and candelabras, the lights flicker on. The hunter sends Castiel a strange look, glancing down at his flashlight before turning it off. They walk down the hall, ready to search each room for any signs of foul play. The doors are in various states of disrepair; splits in the wood, one hanging off a single hinge, another missing a large rectangular area as though someone kicked it in, and one is laying on the floor. Before he can even step from the middle of the hall, the doors begin to slam open and shut. Suddenly, they're closed... even the one that laid on the floor. Dean tries to shoulder one of the doors open, yet can't seem to do so. Even Castiel, with his vast amount of angel strength, can't force the object to budge. He curses beneath his breath and the hunter could swear it's in Enochian.

“This witch is powerful, Dean,” he sighs. “Ghost or not, she still carries the ability to use her spells. We need to be careful.”

“We should go back and warn Sam.”

“He needs only to think about Gabriel and he'll answer his mate,” Castiel offers. “There's no need to worry about him. Right now, I'm not worried about anything but you. This place seems to call to you, Dean. I don't like it. Even with my angelic abilities, it'll take me a while to build up enough strength to defeat such a threat.”

“... Have the teenagers entered the house?” Dean asks suddenly.

“Yes. They entered through the backdoor before we came through the front,” he sighs. “They're probably locked in one of these rooms... one is in the basement.”

For some reason, a lump settles in Dean's stomach. He knows it's dread, that something bad is going to happen. He shakes it off, eying the closed off hall carefully. The lights begin to flicker, a couple bulbs popping spontaneously in their sockets. He backs up, bumping into the unmoving figure that is Castiel. No matter how bad things seem to get, the angel never backs away. It makes Dean feel much safer, having a dominant that won't easily be defeated. The hunter stops at that thought, silently cursing himself and scolding his own mind for referring to Castiel as his dominant.

There's a noise behind one of the doors, said barrier creaking open after a moment. Dean carefully moves toward it, glancing at Castiel before pushing the door open wider. The teenager dressed as a ghoul is hanging from the fan, his body slowly revolving with the blades over head. His painted face is locked in an expression of terror, eyes wide open and mouth frozen in a silent scream. Dean is quick to backtrack, one hand gripping Castiel's sleeve for stability. Right before their eyes, the body vanishes and nothing is left but the rope used to hang him.

“Cas,” Dean murmurs. “I think we should find Sam.”

“... You're probably right,” the angel remarks. “Come, stay close to me.”

They're just making their way back to the stairs, when a door at the end of the hall screeches open. They both still, their gazes lingering on the stairs before turning to the door. Now that it's open, they can see a second staircase. It leads to the attic, no doubt. Dean takes a deep breath and starts to creep toward it. Before he can even reach the halfway point in the hall, Castiel has a strong grip on his upper arm. Green eyes lock with blue, the hunter's heart skipping a beat at just the sight of them, and then he's pulled closer to the angel. As per usual, personal space doesn't exist between them. They're only inches away from each other, their breath warming each other's lips.

“Dean, this is a bad idea,” Castiel comments. “Let's go find Sam and figure out what to do next.”

“We can handle this, Cas,” he argues. “It's just a ghost and besides... we haven't seen a single hint of her. Maybe it really _is_ the house, who knows. All I can say is, that door is open and I feel like I should check it out. What if it's locked again by the time we get Sam and get back?”

“Please, listen to me.”

“I _am_ listening,” he frowns. “I really am, but... one teenager has already been taken by this damn place. I don't want to waste time so more of them die!”

“I understand,” the angel sighs. “Just... don't get too far from me. If we get separated, I can't be certain I'll reach you in time. This witch was powerful in life and even more so in death.”

“Okay.”

Dean grasps Castiel's hand tightly, the two sneak to the door at the end of the hall. The lights have stopped flickering, the icy feeling in the air gone from the hall. Now it lays thickly within the stairwell to the attic. There is no light there, so Dean turns on his flashlight and shines it up the length of the steps. Castiel stays inches from Dean's back, only one step from him, as they start up the stairs. Suddenly, the lights flicker on and off and a powerful gust of wind throws Castiel back. Their hands tighten around one another, but it isn't enough to keep them from slipping. Dean can't move, paralyzed in his spot, and the door slams shut between them.

Dean breaks free from the spell, his fists slamming against the wood of the door. He can hear Castiel on the other side, beating in the same fashion as he calls out for Dean. The tingle of his power raises the hair on the hunter's arms, yet it's not enough to break through whatever spell has been placed on the door. He sits down on the bottom steps, wrapping his arms around himself to ward off the cold, and waits for his angel to get to him. He can only pray Sam is still alive and having better luck than they are.


	14. The Vengeance We Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dead bodies are appearing throughout the house and Cas in unable to push back the witch's spell and get to Dean. That leaves the older Winchester trapped behind the attic door. Cas and Sam are forced to search for the body themselves, leaving Dean alone for now. Along the way, they search for survivors although Cas believes there are none. The white witch, Amelia, shows herself to Dean and offers him a gift... vengeance. Though they manage to burn her body, the haunting continues and they learn it wasn't only Amelia behind the disappearances. Can they still come out victorious on this hunt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I won't be posting 'Flawless', as the first one to message me said they preferred I finished posting this fic first =) For the rest of you, you snooze you lose. Flawless will be posted after this is finished. I hope you're all ready for the next update XD Thank you all for your reviews, I appreciate them so much =D On with the fic!!!!!!

Sam wishes almost instantly that he didn't split up from Castiel and Dean. The lights have begun to dim further, leaving him in a state of near dark. It's still enough to see, though, and he doesn't bother with his flashlight. He's in the dining room, the table large enough for eight though the only one that used it was the woman who died here. On one wall is a large curio cabinet; it's filled with fine china that looks like it was never touched. A chandelier hangs over the table, small tear shaped glass dangling from the rusted gold. There's a crash in the kitchen that catches his breath in his lungs, the tall male inching along the wall before glancing in. No one is there, yet he knows there was someone.

The door to the basement is open and swinging slightly, so he heads that way. This time he turns on his flashlight and sweeps it over the opening. At the bottom of the stairs is a bag, pieces of candy spilled upon the floor. He takes a deep breath and steps down on the first stair, it creaks beneath his weight and he's afraid for only a moment that it won't hold. When he reaches for the banister to his left, he finds that it's already been broken off and it's lying on the floor below. That must've been part of the clatter he heard.

“Hello?” he calls down. “Is anyone there?”

There's no answer. Taking a deep breath, Sam starts down the stairs. The bag at the bottom is new, the candy no doubt recently scavenged from the nearby houses. He can hear a soft creaking sound, like the stretching of rope, and sweeps the beam of his light through the basement. There are racks of dried and crumbling herbs in the back, a shelf filled with bottles of differing sizes and shapes to his right. The smell of moss growing from the dank walls mixes with that of rosemary and thyme and a thousand other herbs. It's stifling and has Sam holding back the urge to gag.

He places a hand over his nose and mouth, suddenly wishing the smell were of blood and decay rather than this. He's used to blood and decay, he's become immune to it by now. Footfalls echo in the large basement as the hunter searches it, his light casting out in a dim line that catches flakes of dust upon the air. When the tall male backs up beside the stairs, however, his back hits something loose and swinging. His heart stops for only a moment, blue eyes glancing down to see the banister that fell from above. When Sam turns around, his light illuminates the pale and lifeless face of a zombie.

“Shit! Zombie!” Sam nearly screeches.

He back tracks quickly, shot gun raising to fire off a round... when he really takes in the zombie. The face is painted, the tattered clothes vaguely familiar. It takes his frazzled mind only a couple seconds to recognize it as the teenager that was harassing Dean earlier. With a relieved sigh, he leans against a support beam at the end of the stairs and shakes his head. He doesn't know why this boy snuck into the house, but their job suddenly got that much worse.

Upstairs Castiel is trying his hardest to break the barrier set over the attic door. Dean is still sitting on the other side of it, talking to the angel to assure him he's okay. He never really realized how little they talk until that moment, the conversation quickly hitting a standstill when he runs out of topics. At the sound of panicking from Castiel at his silence, Dean decides topic doesn't matter. The stairs are hard beneath him, that paint on the wall likely chipping off against his jacket, and the cold has settled to a slight chill. For some reason, he doesn't feel any threat here.

“You know, I don't understand how writers could _completely_ screw up so many things about monsters,” he rambles. “They should've done better homework. I mean, yeah they got a lot right about Dracula... but just as much wrong. And what's with the _vibe_ in this house. I know it's supposed to be haunted, but it's so... stereotypical. I could almost believe it's all a load of shit.”

“And yet you're trapped behind the door to the attic,” Castiel remarks blandly. “It's so obviously hogwash it's sickening.”

“I love the way you talk, Cas,” Dean chuckles.

“I'm glad I entertain you.”

The green-eyed hunter parts his lips to answer that, yet a sound from the attic stills him. A soft breeze floats down to caress his cheek, his name a whisper upon it. For the moment, he ignores the call and returns his attention to Castiel. The angel growls in frustration, slamming his fist against the door again. The sound has Dean's muffled voice rambling again; it's music to his ears. As he's trying to focus his power, he catches the sound of footsteps hurrying toward him.

Sam is at the top of the stairs, wide eyes pinpointing Castiel before he's rushing to his side. The lack of Dean worries him even more, though it fades when he hears his brother talking about his favorite pies. He rolls his eyes and tries the door knob. It's rusted and moves easily, yet the door refuses to budge. He backs up and slams his foot against the worn wood, gasping in pain when a shock of hurt spikes up his leg. He stumbles backward, quickly taking a seat on the floor.

“If it were that easy, I would've had it open by now,” Castiel points out.

“Thanks for the warning,” Sam frowns. “I just found a body in the basement. I was about to take it down from the noose, but it vanished.”

“We faced the same in the room across from the stairs,” the angel informs. “The teenagers that followed us found their way in from the back, but we haven't seen any of them save the ghoul hanging from a fan.”

“Mine was a zombie, that makes two of seven victims.”

They try for a little longer to free Dean, yet that doesn't last long. It's obvious the spirit here doesn't want him freed. As much as they hate it, the only way to save him is by finding the body and burning it. Sam slams his back against the door, leaning heavily upon it before sliding to the floor. There's no words coming to his mouth, nothing to sound assuring to the brother he's positive is close to freaking out. Castiel, however, isn't about to leave the other without saying something.

“Dean,” he calls through the door.

“I'm still here,” the tired hunter sighs back. “What's the verdict?”

“... I will never leave you, you know that,” the angel starts. “I won't leave this place without you by my side. Unfortunately, there's no way I can get to you at the moment. Sam and I are going to look for the spirits remains. Once they're burned, I'll come right back here to gather you, okay?”

“... Y-yeah,” Dean stammers. “Just... don't be long.”

“Don't leave that bottom step, Dean!” Sam demands. “We'll be back as soon as possible.”

His blood is running cold as ice, yet he promises to stay put. He's never felt this way before, so vulnerable and helpless. It's not a good feeling and he can honestly say he hates it, however he's wondering if it isn't because of this new bond with Castiel... maybe from the way it was created. Quickly, he shakes his head at that. He doesn't blame Castiel and most likely never will. That man can get away with murder in Dean's eyes... literally. The call from before drifts down to his ear, the hunter ignoring it determinedly as he huddles closer to the door that blocks his exit.

Sam and Castiel back away from the attic door, both sending a worried glance toward it. It's washed away when they hear Dean quietly singing a Led Zeppelin song to himself. The uncertainty and unease in his tone doesn't exactly loosen them up, yet it's enough to draw a small smirk from Sam. The two start back to the first floor, stopping suddenly as the sound of a door slamming open. When they turn to look in that direction, it's just swinging closed again. It doesn't click shut, just stops when there's an inch or so left between the door and the frame.

They look to one another, nervously in Sam's case, and the taller man moves to open the door. It's a spare room, the bed still perfectly made and the wardrobe in impeccable shape besides the dust and worn wood. As before, a body hangs from the ceiling fan. It's the second zombie. Sam gasps and moves closer, reaching to get to them before their life leaves them. It's too late though, he knows that, so when the body disappears he's not all that surprised. His hand stops in mid-air, only inches from the leftover rope.

“That's three,” he whispers sadly. “Cas, we... we need to save the others.”

“I truly find no joy in telling you this, but... I believe there _is_ no saving them,” the angel offers softly. “From the moment they walked into this house, they died. If not we would have seen them before now. I'm sorry.”

Sam can only nod his understanding, a part of him already knowing this. Unfortunately, that means the ghost should've taken them as well. If they're still alive, why would she allow it? Why toy with them in such a manner? The thought is discarded, too eerie to really give it any more thought. Carefully, they head downstairs. Halfway there, a board cracks beneath Sam's foot. It doesn't give way, though, and he keeps going. Castiel is the one to notice the body hanging from the banister to the hall, it's just next to the stairs near the back. It's not a zombie or a ghoul or even a vampire... this one they haven't seen before.

“Cas, was this teenager in the parking lot?” Sam wonders.

They're dressed as a skeleton, their bag of candy tied to a belt around their waist. Castiel steps closer, his head tilted minutely to the side as he studies them. There's no blood, just the rope around their throat. They do, however, don the same football jacket the others did. Slowly, the fresh corpse begins to melt away and the bag drops to the floor with a loud thunk. The candy within skitters along the wooden floorboards, the sound like gunshots in the silence.

“They weren't with the others before,” Castiel answers finally. “If our bullies from before managed to pick up reinforcements along the way, that drastically changes the outcome of tonight depending on the number.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we first entered this place, we were under the impression there were three of us and four of them. That would've made the seven normally taken during this night,” he explains. “If they brought others with them, however...”

Sam groans in irritation, running a hand over his face. Things really did go from bad to worse. The grandfather clock in the hall strikes eleven, the chimes thunderous within the still of the house. He wonders how much time they have left, wonders if Dean is still okay at the bottom of the stairs. Castiel doesn't seem to be angry, so he can only assume his brother is fine.

They go back through the first floor, the two searching for anything that might hint at a body. Each time they pass the stain on the floor at the bottom of the steps, Sam's eyes study it carefully. It's not enough to cause concern, yet there's just something about it that he can't put his finger on. Within the kitchen, they hear scratching around within a tall closet. Castiel opens it, frowning at the sight of brooms and cleaning supplies. Cowering within the mess of mops and buckets are two males, both with the football jackets the others were wearing. They're dressed as a dead cowboy with an arrow through his head and an equally deceased Indian with a bullet hole in his forehead.

They're still alive and shivering from fear, the smell of urine filling the closet. Sam crouches down to get a bit more eye level with them, snapping his fingers to garner their attention. The two jump, far too skittish at the moment. Their makeup is slightly smudged from the sweat on their brow. The cowboy scoots further back, knocking the mop handle over and almost hitting Sam in the head. Casitel is quick to catch it, gently setting it back into the closet. He uses his power to soothe their nerves, a warmth that even the hunter feels along his back. It's not a complete sense of joy, yet lifts the thick fear surrounding the teenagers. Finally, they calm enough to look at the two.

“My name is Sam,” the tall hunter remarks. “Who are you two?”

“I'm Brad,” the cowboy remarks. “This is my brother, Chad.”

They're twins, Sam can tell now that he's really looking at them. They have black hair and sea green eyes, their heights around Kevin's. They're not built like a football player normally is, probably more basketball and used for running passes. Sam helps them from the closet, looking around nervously as though the house is about to swallow them up. He keeps them close, his pistol at the ready.

“Brad, what happened?”

“We followed our friends in here, Eric said he saw a nice piece of ass come here and wanted to teach him a lesson on disrespecting him. The minute we got in the darkness seemed to get thicker and there were screams... and then we were all that was left. Everyone was gone. We managed to slip into the closet though. I guess whatever was in here passed us up.”

He has his brother tight against his side, probably the younger of the two, and that one seems so shaken it isn't likely he'll be talking without therapy. Castiel hovers like the guardian angel he was to Dean, ready to destroy whatever evil might reach for them. It's odd, how he can protect the same boys affiliated with Dean's attackers. He doesn't get the chance to ask, a low moaning drifting from the dining room they just left. They're almost afraid to walk back in there, yet brave it anyway. This body hangs from the chandelier, the boy dressed in a werewolf costume.

Sam can hear twin gasps behind him, immediately holding onto the boys that try to reach their friend. The body is suddenly gone, leaving behind to balls of misery. It's clear there won't be any body down here, so they carefully lead the boys to the back door. Had the front not been barred by the porch's roof, they would've let them go through there. The knob is locked and won't turn no matter how many times the hunter turns the lock on the handle. There's no leaving until the morning. Sam hands the boys an iron poker each, their expressions of confusion only natural.

“Ghosts are weak against iron,” he states. “If you see the spirit of this house, swing at it and it'll vanish, okay? My brother is upstairs, locked in the stairwell to the attic. We have to get back to him. Stay close to us and we'll protect you.”

They nod, keeping between Castiel and Sam. The angel takes the back while Sam leads, their small group heading back to Dean. There have been four bodies so far, these two and the male dressed as Dracula are the last of the seven. Questions flow through Sam's head in the background, wondering why these two were passed up. She must be waiting for something, yet they have no clue what that might be.

“She was unsure,” Castiel remarks.

“I'm sorry?”

“She was unsure. She only takes bullies, remember? Many teenagers are just followers, she wasn't certain if they deserved to be killed like the others,” he explains. “She's judging them. When she decides on whether or not to count them in her tally, _that's_ when she'll deal with them. Not before.”

The comment has the boys shaking in their boots, both looking around in paranoia as they step onto the landing of the second floor. Sam strains his hearing for Dean's voice, yet the soft and nervous singing has stopped. He prays the other only fell asleep. Ignoring all the other doors and not too keen on running into another corpse, they stand before the attic door. Sam is about to knock, yet Castiel stills him with a raised hand.

He listens, always in tune with the older Winchester's state of being. There's nothing for a moment, and then he catches the soft even breathing of the hunter. Dean has managed to fall asleep while trapped in a haunted house, when a deranged witch's ghost has locked him away from his group and might kill him... why does that _not_ surprise the angel. He sighs and shake his head in exasperation, conveying his finding to Sam with just a look.

“... You're kidding me,” Sam deadpans.

“Unfortunately not, he's fast asleep,” Castiel sighs before setting a hand lightly upon the door. “Dean? Dean, wake up. I'm back for you. Please tell me you stayed put, that the ghost didn't hurt you.”

“... Hmm... Cas?” Dean mumbles sleepily. “Holy shit, I can't believe I fell asleep... How stupid was that?”

“ _Very_ stupid!” Sam shouts. “Very, _very_ stupid! You could've been _killed_!”

They hear the exaggerated groan from the other side of the door, which Sam immediately kicks the door to answer. Despite their situation, the older twin can't help snickering. This huge man, as bad-ass as he seems, is just as bad as he is with his own brother. So immature and childish even in the face of death. Just as Dean is about to kick back, a whisper of his name floats down to him again. It's been coming in intervals since he was locked here, the cold never turning icy around him again. Unlike the rest of his time there, this time a flicker of fog appears at the top of the stairs. It's the ghost of Amelia Taggert, dressed as a white witch with long black hair and glowing blue eyes, and she's reaching out for him. Without thinking, Dean's back slams into the door and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Castiel hears the sound, his eyes hardening immediately as he tries the knob again. His fists pound on the wood, startling Sam and the twins. The panic in blue eyes is obvious, sending waves of nausea through Sam it hits him so fast. He pulls the boys closer, directing them to take up guard on either side of them. The hall is silent, the lights blinking before going out completely. The chill that had left the hall is suddenly back, spreading a breakout of goosebumps through the three humans.

“Dean!” Castiel shouts. “Dean, what's going on!”

“She's here!” the hunter replies breathlessly. “Cas, she's here. She's beckoning me... watching me from the top of the stairs.”

“Don't follow her!” he demands. “Stay here with me. Stay with me, Dean! I need you to be there when I open this door, I need you to... I just... Dean? Dean!”

“... I'm gonna go up,” he states in determination. “If you haven't seen the body yet, it must be upstairs. I have my bag, I'll handle it.”

Cas shouts for Dean to return, banging against the door like a madman trying to reach his victim. The hunter can't hear him anymore, already halfway up the stairs. Amelia is still there, a kind smile on her lips. She's beautiful, probably even more so in life, and Dean is drawn to her instantly. She doesn't give off an air of threat, more one of sadness and resignation. Beneath all that is buried a little seed of anger and loneliness.

The stairs squeak and creak beneath his feet, each step bringing him that much closer to the witch. She doesn't hurry him, staying completely still atop the stairway, and it makes moving closer easy for the hunter. When he nearly gets close enough for her to touch him, he stops and she slowly drifts backward. Her gown and hair float around her as though trapped in an eternal breeze, the neck of her dress dipping with her movement... and reveal a nasty bruise ringing her slender throat.

“I have a gift for you,” she smiles in an echoic voice.

“A gift?”

She nods and casts her arm out before the room. It's a bedroom, surprisingly. Against one wall is a bed with a wrought iron headboard and foot-board. There's a frayed rug of white on the floor, stained with drops that can only be blood. The window is covered by lace curtains, a small closet slightly open next to it. The witch's ghost drifts in that direction, stopping by the large wardrobe on the opposite side of the window. The doors fly open and the fake vampire that attempted to defile him... yet again... falls out. Dean is stunned, staring in complete stupefaction at the defiant brat that followed him here with less than good intentions.

He catches sight of Dean and grins wickedly, that same evil gleam in his eyes as he had when he dropped the hunter's pants. The green-eyed male sucks in a steadying breath and tightens his hold on the pistol. Amelia waves a hand and the closet door opens, a cloud of fly carcasses and maggots falling along the floor. A dried and rotted corpse is strung up from the iron rod to hang clothes, a tattered and moth eaten white gown covers her... larger stains left on the cloth by her hips. Right over the chest, the gown is cut and ribs jut out from the gaping hole there. Dean's eyes immediately turn to the bed, finding handcuffs still hooked to the corners of both the headboard and the foot-board. They're rusted and stained with the same blood, as are the rumpled sheets. He just knows if he had a black-light, he'd find a myriad of fluids left over. There's no doubt in his mind, thanks to his experience with the Amazons, that this poor woman was the victim of a gang rape.

A belt is laying on the floor near the bed, probably used to strangle her as they took their pleasure. If she died during the act of their forced intimacy, then they strung her up just to add insult to injury... maybe make it look like a suicide. The sight of so much blood and the lingering smell of stale sex brought on by the ghost's presence, it triggers his own attack. Not just the demon, but the Amazons as well. His breathing starts to come erratically, his head spinning as he stumbles. One hand grips Dean's head, his body hitting the wall near the stairs and sliding down it.

“C-Cas,” he breathes out in a near panic. “Cas... Cas, help me... I... I need you.”

“You don't need him,” Amelia smiles. “I've brought you your tormentor, I've given you the chance to take your vengeance on him. Should you not be able to, I shall help you. You deserve retribution for his indiscretions! I would punish them _all_ should they come to this house, I can see you've been scarred far worse than what this deviant could manage!”

“Cas,” Dean gasps.

“Forget him,” the vampire teen grins. “By the time _I'm_ done with you, you'll know what if feels like to be with a _real_ man.”

He advances on Dean, the hunter struggling to pull himself from his flashbacks to keep away from the teen. He crawls away from the first reach, quickly putting the bed between them. That doesn't help his anxiety any. He can feel the rising fury from his angel, that heavenly power slamming so hard against the door that the entire wall is shuddering. He needs to get to the body in the closet, needs to burn it before this idiot can get to him... but his mind is far from focused on anything at the moment.

“Stop playing hard to get, you know you want it.”

“If I did I wouldn't be running,” Dean spits out. “Now sit down and behave, or I'm gonna have to knock your ass out!”

“I'd like to see you try, bitch.”

Dean gasps when the teenager's, Eric's, hand brushes his own. Without thinking it through, he draws his pistol and points it at the other. A thousand different hunts flash through his mind, a million different monsters he's faced down without hesitance. Why should a human invoke fear within him when all those creatures couldn't? The hardness returns to his green orbs, though not from determination. It's more from desperation and fear, which has now tapped into his default emotion. Everything is handled with anger, nothing more and nothing less.

“Back,” he snaps. “Or I'll fucking shoot you!”

“My, my. The bitch has bite.”

“I don't have time for your shit! Your friends are _dead_! I saw one myself, hanging from a ceiling fan! Unless you'd like to join them, which I'm sorely tempted to allow, I'd suggest you let me do my damn job!”

“Your job? A ghost-buster? You can't be serious,” Eric snorts in humor. “You're lucky you have your looks, babe, because you seriously don't have sanity. Now lie down on the bed. If you're good, I'll go easy on you.”

He reaches for Dean again, the hunter grabbing his arms and twisting Eric's wrist harshly. He stood a chance with his goons to back him up, but they're gone now. Now he's up against a man trained since youth to take down werewolves, vampires, and all sorts of nasty things. Dean wastes no time punching the teenager, his rage filled in each blow. Amelia's spirit watches quietly, gasping when the whole wall from downstairs is ripped from its place. Castiel charges up the stairs, pulling Dean off his attacker and holding him close. All the fear and pain and anger comes rushing out of the hunter, Dean burying his face in Castiel's chest so no one sees his silent tears. Sam and the twins aren't far behind, all of them stopping at the sight of Amelia. She's watching Dean intensely, hands folded before her. Eric groans and shifts, rubbing at the bruise on his jaw. There's a rage in his brown eyes, one directed at the man that made a fool of him twice now.

He growls low in his throat, lunging for the two sitting on the floor close by. Before he can so much as brush Dean's shoulder, the corpse from the closet is dropped to the floor and the rope sails across the room. He gags when it tightens around his throat, jerking him hard to the side. It seems to have grown in length to get to him, now shortening just as fast. The minute he's hanging in the closet, the door slams shut on his struggling form. Sam cries out, rushing that way to help him. The door won't budge, just as the others downstairs. He quickly pulls out the salt and lighter fluid, Amelia's ghost turning on him in an instant. Before she has the chance to touch him, a bullet packed with salt rock blows through her. With a wail, she disappears and Sam sends a grateful glance to Castiel. He quickly spreads the objects on the corpse, flicking a lighter to life and tossing it on top. The body goes up in flames.

“Grab Dean,” he directs. “Let's get the hell out of the haunted house!”

“Let's go, kids,” Castiel murmurs as he helps Dean to his feet.

They stick together, bringing up the rear as they all hurry down to the second floor. Dean is exhausted from his breakdown, the angel scooping him into his arms despite his complaints. It's demeaning and embarrassing, yet a part of him is grateful. As they run down the hall, he can see the planks and boards crack before splitting. It's almost as though the house is growing limbs. The stairs shake as they descend them, the railing lifting up and curling to block their progress. That stain catches Dean's eye again as they pass it, a quiet thump-thump getting louder.

Just before Castiel can push the blockade from the front door, two ropes snag the fleeing teenagers and lift them into the air. Dean is almost dropped to the floor in Castiel's haste to reach the boys, the angel setting him on his feet carefully. Sam and Castiel hurry to lift the boys up by their feet, trying to keep them from strangling themselves with their frantic movements.  Though only one victim is left, the spirit of the house hasn't decided on which twin to take... plus it's pissed its body was burned and will likely take all those left in principle. That thumping is beginning to drown out their cries, Dean's green orbs staring at the stain intently. Slowly, he walks over to it, pulling the carpet back further.

“Guys, there's a lifted board here,” he states.

“Dean! We don't have time for this, just do something!” Sam shouts.

“Okay, okay, hang on. Geez, you're so damn pushy.”

He pries the board up and cringes in disgust at what he finds. The hole within Amelia's corpse was from her heart being removed. The teenagers that killed her stuck it beneath the floorboards in the hall, setting it beside a book titled 'The Telltale Heart'. The heart attached itself to the house, veins and tendons stretching beneath the floor as though the organ belonged there. He pours in some salt and lighter fluid from his own bag, throwing in the lighter to set the organ aflame. The boys are dropped and the fires stretch throughout the house.

Once more they head to the front door, the angel casting the rubble away. He holds one boy and Sam carries the other, both still gasping for breath at the close call. They don't stop running until they reach the gates, all but Castiel stumbling to their knees. The dread that encircled them from the moment they stepped through the wrought iron barrier is slowly lifting, smoke from house filling the sky as the fires spread. Dean reaches for Castiel, still shivering from his breakdown as that helplessness continues to swim through him. It doesn't take much prodding, a shamed look to the ground and a reluctant hand on the angel's sleeve, and Castiel is kneeling beside the hunter. He shields Dean from the three with them, keeping himself between them and the hunter to preserve some fraction of Dean's pride.

The green-eyed male buries his face in Castiel's chest again, breathing deep that scent of sunshine and summer that seems to linger on the angel. He's never asked for this type of comfort, not even when trying to talk Castiel out of Naomi's brainwashing... the hunter at his knees and bloody from his beating. It feels so good to let go for once, to just melt into the safety he feels right there in the embrace of an angel. The wind doesn't even touch him there, the only thing his senses manage to pick up is Castiel; his scent, the touch of his firm body and strong arms against Dean, the sound of his steady heartbeat, and all he wants is to taste the other.

Castiel sends Sam a pointed look, which he picks up on fast. The taller hunter guides the twins away from them, leaving his brother and their companion within the dead lands of the ghost. Without the audience, Dean finally falls apart. As much as he doesn't like to see this, doesn't like that the hunter who's given everything already has broken, it's also a good thing. Castiel knows how to put the hunter back together, but he's lacking in the knowledge of how to fix him unless he's completely undone.

“It's okay,” he murmurs against Dean's brown hair. “Everything's okay now, Dean. I'm here and I'll never leave you.”

“The attic... everything just flooded back... I... I couldn't handle it,” he breathes out shakily. “I called for you. I... I called for you...”

“I heard you,” the angel assures. “I will _always_ hear you, Dean, and I'll always answer.”

There are no tears, not this time. He's already let them all fall in the chaos of the house. Instead, he clings to the body of his soul-mate until his shivers of fear pass. It takes a while, the house letting out a ghostly wail as it turns to cinders and debris, but eventual he stills. Castiel helps him to his feet, still keeping him wrapped tightly in his arms. He knows this won't be enough, he'll have to request privacy when they get back to the hotel to be any more effective.

The boys with Sam have run home, intending to lock themselves in and never take part in another Halloween, and he tells them as much. Night has long since fallen while they went through hell in that house. The children that have been roaming the streets in groups are slowly dwindling, heading home for the night to dig through their bags of candy. It's grown colder and Dean is grateful for the trench coat he's bundled in. Sam is quiet the whole way back, eyes occasionally darting to the form of his broken older brother.

“Sam, when we arrive at the room, could you please see if you can get another one for the night?” Castiel wonders. “I need some time alone with my mate.”

“Of course,” he states. “I'll just see if Gabriel is back from their hunt, maybe he'd like to keep me company or something. Hey, Cas? Do you think... do you think Dean will be okay?”

“He'll be fine.”

It's assuring, so he says nothing more. When they reach the hotel, he heads to the front desk and requests the empty room next door. He knew it was empty when they left, as the maid was cleaning it up and left the door open. Castiel has already gotten Dean inside their first room when he rejoins them, the taller male walking in to grab his bag. The room is warm, yet Dean hasn't let go of the angel's coat.

“I'll just be in the next room if you need me, Dean,” he assures. “Try and get some sleep, okay?”

Dean nods and pulls the coat tighter around him, his body sitting in the middle of his bed. The taller man exits once more, mentally calling Gabriel on his way to the room next door. Once he's gone, Castiel locks the door and turns back to the hunter. It's so quiet, so unlike the green-eyed man on the bed, and it unnerves him greatly. Slowly, he steps toward the bed. He doesn't need to approach Dean cautiously after that, the hunter reaches out to him almost immediately.

Castiel sits on the bed, back facing the end, and pulls Dean onto his lap. He leaves enough room between them that he can pull off his shirt and tie, grasping Dean close as a giant pair of black wings stretch wide. Once he's spread them, he draws them around himself and Dean. They're the color of the pitch outside and radiate a soothing aura, likely from Castiel's Grace, which sends Dean into a slight daze. He reaches out and runs his fingers along the thick bone attached to the angel's shoulder blade, the touch draws a quiet moan from Castiel.

The wings are sensitive, newly formed from the power of his Grace. It's rare an angel manifests their wings, keeping them close and hidden... they're an intimate part of them, after all. Dean needs this though and as his mate it's his right to have access to his wings. The hunter is enthralled by them, green eyes wide with a childish wonder. The feathers graze his cheek when he moves, so soft he could mistake them for being the night air, and there's a slight glitter to each feather that looks like the stars. He moves back, the large appendages making room for him, and he pulls off the jacket and his own tee shirt. Castiel is warm at his front, the hunter lying his head on the angel's shoulder, and those wings are cottony all around him. He doesn't even realize when his eyelids begin to droop, sleep claiming him far easier than these past nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say I'm so excited! I just finished almost all of my first Supernatural doll! Cas just needs his hair and then he's all done XD I can't wait =D


	15. The Lady in Black is a Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faced with the realization Cas will always be his safe haven, Dean finally gives in to bond between them. This gives him a look into the alpha side of Castiel, which is much different from the side he usually sees. Though he gives in, Dean has trouble fully accepting the change. He decides to take baby steps. Sex is something he knows, it's relationships he doesn't. Thinking it over in the shower, he finds himself trapped in a bubble of time away from the others... with a woman that reminds him horribly of Xia. This woman, however, is much darker. Her sarcastic comments put Dean's world in perspective a little better than most and he comes clean with Cas about the mark left by Aphrodite... and tries his best to communicate his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed a day or two, but I've been busy. Right now I'm trying to make my cosplay outfits. I'm making two pokemon breeder outfits, one red and one green. Mine has a basket with baby crocheted pokemon XD Anyway, here's your update =D

It's around noon when Dean finally stirs, those silken feathers still holding him close to Castiel. The angel doesn't sleep anymore, yet he found no reason to release his mate. Dean isn't the only one of the two that finds the need to touch and hold. The room is cold, the heater must've blew through the night, yet within the blanket of softness it remains the perfect temperature. The hunter sighs and nuzzles Castiel's neck, a part of him wondering what Sam has been up to all day. From the exhaustion settled over himself, he can only guess the taller male is still sleeping.

The angel knows he's awake, yet he hasn't pulled away or said anything and he takes that as permission to stay as is. Castiel's heart has never felt so full before, he's never felt so complete. For the first time in forever, he's not lost... he knows his place is with Dean, his loyalty is for Dean, and this hunter is more important to him then anything he thought important before. This is a gift he never thought his Father would give him.

“Dean?” he murmurs.

“Mm-hm?”

“Are you all right?”

“... I will be,” Dean whispers.

His lips brush against the skin of Castiel's neck as he talks, his eye lids half-mast as his heart starts thumping harder. Gently, he presses a kiss onto the column. Castiel breathes in sharply, his arms tightening around Dean minutely. It's a reassuring reaction and spurs the hunter on, his hands running along Castiel's sides as he faces the angel. There's conflict in blue eyes. Dean is vulnerable and he shouldn't take advantage of that, yet it's been clear for a long while that sex is how the hunter copes.

Those lips are on his again, insistent and almost begging. It breaks Castiel's heart just as much as it turns him on. Dean's soul is calling to his Grace, he can hear it in the back of his mind, and he's hard pressed to deny this man anything he wants. He's given up so much, died so many times, he deserves to get exactly what he wants and needs. Castiel returns the kiss lazily, one of his hands weaving its fingers through Dean's short hair. Dean moans into his mouth, allowing the angel to slip his tongue in and map it out. One of the hunter's hands runs along the bone of Castiel's wing, eager to touch those feathers and run his fingers through them. He's gentle with them, afraid too much force will tear out that beautiful plumage of night.

The area within Castiel's wings is heating up and Dean can't stand it. Though he lost his shirt before he fell asleep, he's ready to shed the rest of his clothes. Before Casitel can say anything, he's unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. His breathing is quick and eager, his mind fogged with lust and the need to forget... to feel better if only for a little while. It's a task, however he manages to pull his pants and boxers off without breaking the hold of the angel's wings. They're thrown onto the floor. Dean is straddling Castiel's thighs now, so he scoots back to work on the angel's pants as well.

“Dean,” Castiel murmurs. “You don't have to do this.”

“I want to.”

“I don't want to take advantage of you, not again,” Castiel whispers a bit hurt. “If this is what you truly want, I _will_ give it to you. But... you have to be sure. If you regret doing this later, I don't think I could handle seeing the pain in your eyes a second time. This time, it really _would_ be my fault.”

Dean sets his forehead against Castiel's, his eyes closed and his hands still. If he really concentrates on that strange bond he's felt between them since he was pulled from Hell, he can feel the internal struggle the angel is going through. He shouldn't have to think about whether or not to touch Dean, the hunter belongs to him. Alone, surrounded by Castiel's Grace and knowing no one else can see them, he can grudgingly admit that to himself. He can let himself be free of the facade he puts up in front of others, can be overwhelmed with the emotions he normally keeps under lock down. Finally, he let's himself let go of that last little secret he's hidden, the one he's ignored and denied for so many years.

“I... I want you,” he whispers.

He curses himself mentally... that's not what he wanted to say. Though he was ready to jump in the deep end at the moment, it would seem he's not ready to go completely under just yet. Castiel seems to understand though, he always seems to understand, as his incredibly blue eyes soften all the more with such affection. It fills Dean's heart with so much passion it hurts.

Their lips crash again, their hands gripping each other's hair as teeth clack. Dean rocks his hips, grinding their erections together and drawing moans from them both. Once more, the hunter's hands have dropped to Castiel's pants. His fingers fumble, his skin tingling like a static current is flowing through his veins. He's had sex plenty of times, but he's never been this excited during it. Finally, Castiel's hands clasp over Dean's. They stop his progress, the hunter groaning in frustration, and then the angel places his lover's hands on his shoulders. He deals with his pants himself, not as far gone as Dean is... yet. His pants are carefully slipped off, the blue-eyed man careful not to jostle Dean too much. Dean happily tosses the last bit of clothing separating them onto the floor.

They're attached at the mouth again, their hands drawing trails of heat along each other's bodies. Dean is shivering with desire, the green within his eyes nearly lost in the black of his pupils. He wraps his arms around Castiel's neck, pressing their bodies as close as possible as he kisses him. The angel's lips trail from his mouth, latching onto his throat and sucking. It's so hot, sweat beading on their flesh and making it easier to move against one another. Castiel bucks up unconsciously, Dean gasping out as their ridged flesh runs along each other.

“Ah!” he cries out. “Cas... Mm...”

Castiel glides his feathers along Dean's back and arms; they're cool against his heated skin. The contrast against his sensitive body has him quivering. Dean pulls away enough to rummage for his pants on the floor, pulling a tube of lube from the back pocket. Normally he doesn't carry it with him, but ever since he's been having those erotic dreams about Castiel he's kept it just in case. It's handed to the brunette watching him. Castiel sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of the lubricant, glancing at Dean in question before popping the cap. Dean pushes past the shell created by those large black wings, lying back on the cool blankets and sighing in relief.

The air in the room is cold compared to his skin and he shivers from it, reaching for one of those wings and softly tugging it closer. Castiel kneels between his thighs and leans over, draping his wings at their sides to block out the cold. He licks a trail up Dean's torso, nipping every now and then, and watches at the other falls apart in a far more delectable way. He keeps on hand on Dean's hip after squirting some of the lube in his other. He works it around his fingers, sucking on the skin near the hunter's bellybutton as he reaches down.

Dean gasps when a finger grazes along his opening, circling the pucker languidly, and moans loudly at the feeling. That's an area that's never explored before, one that he's kept everyone away from before now. He can feel his heart thrumming in his throat right now, his head light with the flood of passion. The first finger starts to push into him, Dean immediately tightening at the intrusion.

“Relax, Dean,” Castiel murmurs soothingly. “I won't hurt you, you know that. I would never hurt you.”

“I k-know,” Dean stammers. “It just... f-feels weird.”

Castiel smiles minutely, the sight bringing an answering grin to the hunter. Dean takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, forcing himself to calm down and relax. He keeps mentally repeating that he's only hurting himself if he can't relax. He feels a hand gently stroke his member, his back arching at the unexpected pleasure. Dean bites his bottom lip and moans, one forearm laying across his eyes to hide them further. Carefully, Castiel adds another finger. He scissors the hunter's opening, loosening it up and spreading the lube thoroughly, and then adds a third. By now it's slightly uncomfortable and Dean sends a pleading look at his lover.

Finally, Castiel strikes his prostate and Dean's eyes go wide. His mouth is opened in a silent scream, a drawn out moan letting loose after a long moment. The angel draws out his fingers, taking in the beautiful creature that is Dean. His body shimmers with sweat, his chest heaving as he gasps for breath, and those green emeralds gaze upon Castiel with something so much deeper than lust. He can feel that emotion calling to him, reaching out to entangle soul with Grace, and he can't help but let it. He coats his sex with the cool gel, lifting Dean's hips to draw him closer. The hunter holds his breath as Castiel alines his length with Dean's opening. He slowly pushes in, so carefully that his lover feels like he's made of fine china.

“Not so slow,” Dean complains in a strained tone. “I won't fucking break.”

“... I don't want to hurt you,” Castiel replies.

“I'll live, damn it!”

“In case it's evaded your notice, _I'm_ the dominant in this interaction,” the angel practically growls out. “We'll do this _my_ way. When you're capable of taking that position, you can decide how we have sex. Now be quiet and let me pleasure you.”

Dean's eyes are wide in shock, his mouth working to come up with a response. His attempts are cut short when Castiel finally bottoms out, his torso laying atop Dean's as he attacks that slender throat again. In place of an argument, sounds of pleasure spill from those lips. When Dean starts rocking back to impale himself on that large member, Castiel lifts himself up. He pulls almost all the way out, pressing himself back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

The hunter has never been so loud during sex in his life, begging for more friction and harder contact. Castiel grips his hip almost bruising, lifting him enough to thrust deeper into that tight warmth. Dean wraps his legs around the angel's waist, his hands reaching for anything. One manages to thread fingers into a large black wing, the other in the pillow beneath his head.

“Ha... oh god, Cas,” Dean moans deeply. “Ah! C-Cas... more... I... FUCK!”

Castiel would've stilled had Dean not frantically thrust onto his cock. His grip tightens, keeping the hunter from moving, and Dean whines in frustration. He hit that sweet spot again, a spot no one has ever touched in Dean before, and the hunter reacted instinctively. Once he's positive the green-eyed man can't move, he leans back and begins thrusting again. Now that he's aware which angle will get him that reaction, he continues without mercy.

It's amazing, the ecstasy that turns their blood to molten lava. Dean's grip tightens on the feathers in his hand, his other arm leaving his face to grip Castiel's arm. Long red line are dug into the flesh there by his nails, their grunts and pants filling the room with each passing second. Any rhythm created by the angel has gone, turning to erratic thrust searching for release. Dean swears he's in heaven, he has to be. Nothing feels this good.

“Ah! Hah... C-Cas... Oh, yes,” he murmurs, barely intelligible. “God, _yes_! C-Cas... Ah, hah... Mm... h-harder... H-harder! Fuck, yes!”

Castiel smiles at the noise, so much better than anything he's heard before. To know that he's the one undoing all of Dean's control, breaking through all of the hunter's carefully built barriers... it invokes a sense of pride that should be sinful. He strokes Dean's member, no teasing involved. With each stroke, Dean can feel his release coming that much closer. It's like the tide against a dam, beating closer with head thrust and cracking the dam a little more each time. He wants it to break. He pulls Castiel down, throwing all his emotions into the kiss that follows. There's so many of them, such a huge amount, that he can feel tears in his eyes.

“Please,” he whispers. “P-please, Cas... I... I need to... god, please let me...”

“... It's okay,” Castiel whispers in his ear huskily. “Come for me, Dean.”

His eyes squeeze shut tightly, his back arching beneath Castiel, and his mouth drops open. There's a violent shudder that lays siege to his body, so much more so than he's experienced with any woman, and his fluids paint his stomach in copious amounts. At the feeling of his insides clenching around him, Castiel lasts only a few more thrusts. He presses deep, leaving no room between them, and empties himself within Dean. His face if buried in Dean's neck, one hand clenching around the back of the column and his wings puffing out around them. It's a claiming action, all of them. His lips are pressed tight to that skin, burning their touch into Dean's flesh. His hand grips in the manner an animal's teeth would during mating. Even his wings shield the hunter from the world and the eyes of all others, keeping him to himself. He's stained Dean from within, his Grace quick to latch onto Dean's soul. It won't go away, every creature that lays eyes on him will be able to tell who he belongs to.

“Wow,” Dean gasps out tiredly. “That was... wow.”

“Do you feel better now?”

“I feel fucking awesome,” the hunter grins stupidly. “But I think I might need some more sleep. Stay with me?”

“... Always,” Castiel chuckles. “But I'm going to have to get rid of the wings.”

Dean groans in disappointment, yet understands on some level. He watches as those wings turn to shadow and disappear, a sense of longing settling deep inside him. The consolation is that he still has Castiel and the angel doesn't seem to be planning on leaving anytime soon. Once the restriction provided by his wings is gone, the angel settles down beside Dean on the bed and pulls the blanket over them. He hasn't felt movement from Sam's room since last night... though he's positive that movement wasn't Gabriel begging for attention.

A few minutes later, the door blows open and Gabriel bounds in happily. Castiel only needs to see the look on his face to know the movement was an intimate coupling, the angel resisting the urge to balk at the realization. He sighs instead, sending a glare toward his older brother. He skids to a stop, golden eyes flashing to Dean. The hunter is still asleep and he relaxes like he dodged a bullet. After finding the green-eyed man slumbering peacefully, Gabriel tip-toes to the table and quietly sits down on the chair there.

“I see you two were busy last night,” he grins mischievously.

“A trigger was hit during the mission, he needed comfort... sex is normally how he copes,” Castiel informs. “The situation could've been far more pleasing, but at least he's feeling better.”

“Hey, beggars can't be choosers,” the older angel shrugs. “That being said... you need to be careful with those triggers, Cas. Dean may be a hunter, but this happened in the middle of a _hunt_. If that ghost was more concerned with killing him than giving him vengeance she never got, you wouldn't have gotten to him in time. We have no clue what side effects he's already going through with the Mark of Grace on him, we can't risk throwing him to the wolves again.”

Castiel is quiet for a long while, his eyes boring holes into the floor. He's thinking, Gabriel knows that, and the angel turned trickster waits for him to gather his thoughts. He doesn't like the silence, Gabriel has never liked it and always tries to fill it with humor. He looks around the large room, taking in Dean's figure besides Castiel. The angel has sat up, leaving his hunter to lie on his stomach. The sheets drape around Dean's hips, leaving only his back bare to golden eyes. He's as fit as his brother, which Gabriel would expect. He smirks at the slight glow to Dean's skin, left behind by Castiel's Grace, and eyes his brother curiously.

“You manifested your wings?” he wonders.

“I needed to calm him last night, he wouldn't go to sleep otherwise.”

“Does he understand how significant that is?” Gabriel questions quietly. “An angel's wings are like... I don't now... a human's _sex_ , or something. Even _angels_ don't touch one another's wings!”

“I'm sure he understands on some level. I don't want to make a big deal out of it, I'm having enough trouble getting him to initiate contact on his own.”

Gabriel nods in understanding. Unlike Sam, Dean is extremely set in his ways and reserved when it comes public shows of affection. He's somewhat glad Castiel got stuck with the stubborn ass of a hunter, as he would've tied him to a bed by now. It's like pulling teeth with Dean and the trickster would've done it literally just to spite him.

There's a soft knock at the door before it's opened, a cautious Sam stepping in. his face drops at the sight of the couple on the bed, still in all manners of undressed, and he starts to retreat. The trickster grins widely, nodding his head so the door shuts with a click. The hunter tries the handle, yet Gabriel answers by making the door vanish altogether. Knowing there's no getting away, Sam grumbles beneath his breath and takes a seat at the table.

For a long while, there's no sound. The ticking of the wall clock fills the void for a bit, yet quickly gets on Sam's nerves. This is around the time Dean would be rambling about nothing, complaining about not having a case yet, or griping about being hungry. Anything to get rid of the quiet. He fidgets uncomfortably, his blue eyes drifting to his brother. Dean is out, there's no other word for it. His face is buried in his pillow, mouth slightly open and body so relaxed he could've melted into the sheets. The younger hunter has never seen his brother look so relaxed, he's always carried a tension within him... like he's seen so much bad that he's just waiting for an ax to fall. Maybe that's exactly what it is.

“Are you hungry?” Gabriel wonders with slight concern. “You've slept for so long you've missed two meals.”

“I've barely missed lunch,” Sam chuckles. “We'll go get something once Dean wakes.”

Gabriel frowns and snaps his fingers, manifesting a plate of bacon and eggs with toast in front of his lover. Sam is startled from the sudden appearance of food, large blue eyes glancing toward a smug and satisfied trickster. One more snap has a glass of orange juice joining the food. He'll do the same for Dean once he wakes, but right now his mate is his top priority.

There's a soft murmur from the shorter hunter, he shifts in his sleep at the smell of food and stretches. Though he would've liked a few more hours of sleep, his stomach's rumbling is demanding attention. Normally it'd be easy to ignore, but this time it's far too annoying. Green eyes peek open to find himself half wrapped in a sheet with a very naked Castiel beside him. A stupid and sleepy smile stretches on his lips as he hums in approval... until he realizes there are other people in the room.

“... What the hell?” he mumbles with a blush. “Who the hell told you guys to come in here?”

“I don't need an invitation, I make my own!” Gabriel grins impishly.

“I tried to leave, but Gabriel made the door vanish,” Sam grumbles with a glare at the trickster.

The glare he sets on the archangel is ten times more venomous than the one he gets from Sam... he prefers the one from Sam. The look Dean hands him is borderline murderous, sending a chilly shiver along his spine. Castiel can feel the tension easily, sliding from bed and making sure the sheets are tightly wrapped around Dean. The shorter hunter can see Sam divert his eyes in half a heartbeat, his face beat red at the sight of a naked angel. Gabriel doesn't care either way, Castiel is his brother and when the younger male was just a child he ran around naked enough times that it's not surprising anymore.

It irritates Dean, the way Castiel can waltz around without shame... though he seriously has nothing to be ashamed of. Dean himself can strip down to his boxers without shame, yet this is different. They know what he did, they're aware he's strayed from the usual path of heterosexual and dove into homosexual in a single night. He isn't quite ready to accept all this with the eyes of the world staring at him... not yet. With his head hanging in embarrassment, he retreats to the bathroom with a slight limp. Castiel sets a hand on his shoulder before he can take a second step away from him, healing the limp and soreness in his lower back.

Dean mumbles a thank you, still unwilling to meet the eyes across the room. When he enters the bathroom, he shuts the door without looking back. A loud sigh heaves itself from his lungs, the hunter leaning heavily against the door before sliding to the floor. The conflict within his heart and head is driving him crazy. He wants with all he is to give in and love Castiel, but the thought that someone else demands it has his defiant side raising its hackles.

Away from Castiel's warmth, he can feel the chill within the bathroom. The tiles don't serve to help warm him, so he forces himself onto his feet and turns on the water. The steam is beautiful, wrapping around his limbs before he even gets beneath the spray. There's no movement, just the hunter standing beside the tub with his eyes closed. The heat is a godsend against his chilled skin, the sheet doing nothing to keep the cold off. He drops it and ventures into the shower, sighing in relief when the water pelts him. The fact he's alone has a lump of disappointment in his throat, though he's quick to brush it off.

“Baby steps, Dean,” he mutters to himself. “One thing at a time, don't overwhelm yourself. Rushing into things is what gets your ass in the fire!”

“That's no way to keep a mate,” an unfamiliar voice states outside the curtain.

“Shit!” Dean shouts.

The surprise has him slipping in the tub, yet a slender hand pillows his back to keep him steady. There's so much strength in that hand, there's no way it can be human. Eyes wild with panic and the realization he's completely defenseless, he opens the curtain enough to look out. The woman looks exactly like the woman in white from before, but there are striking differences. Her irises are white, her hair raven like the night. Though their hairstyles and outfits are identical, he can tell they're completely different. Where the woman from his dream had white, this woman has black. Where there was gold, she has crimson. Where the cloth was black, this one is white. She does have a katana to match the woman in white, but her expression is more mischievous than kind... more impish than merciful.

“Who the _hell_ are you!” he shouts.

“Oh keep your voice down, no one can hear you,” she waves off. “I've stilled time to deal with you, boy. It's not an easy trick, you should at least be thankful if not impressed.”

“... What are you doing here?”

“Talking to you, of course. Why else would I bother to drop in on your pity party?” she snorts derisively.

Dean growls low in his throat, a noise that draws a huge grin to her lips. He has a feeling he'd rather deal with the woman in white than this woman that looks like her. She snaps her fingers and his shower suddenly transforms into an in ground tub. He's quick to drop into the bubble frothed water, hiding his nakedness with a blush. The woman chuckles in dark humor, kicking off her sandals and tying her long sleeves back by her shoulders. She hikes up her skirt and steps onto the first step beneath the water, sitting on the edge and setting her legs to the side.

Dean doesn't have a chance to say anything, as she's gripping his hair harshly and pulling him back toward her. It's clear this woman has no concept of the word 'gentle'. She turns him around and grabs a bath sponge and some soap, frothing it up before running it along his back. His mind blows somewhere in the back of his brain, a fuse meant to take in logic simple fizzles out. This woman, who he's never met before, is giving him a fucking bath like she's his lover! He just doesn't know what to say to that. As he's fighting over what to do or say, the smell of lavender invades his nose. He finds himself relaxing against his will, the scent enough to melt the tension within him.

“You're a handful, much more so than your brother,” the woman chuckles. “Thankfully, you're just like my sister. I always knew how to relax her and you're apparently no different.”

“Who are you? Why are you here? There must be _some_ reason,” he frowns a bit quieter. “Xia spoke with me because I was dead... did I kill myself in the shower or something?”

“No, not at all. I'm Ming Yue, Xia's twin sister. She wouldn't tell me about you and I'm cursed with a _very_ curious nature. I decided I would check on you myself,” she chirps. “I can't say you're a disappointment, which is quite refreshing.”

The hunter is silent for a while, a thoughtful quiet, and this woman seems to know what's traveling his mind. She moves on to massaging shampoo into his hair, humming to herself as she does so. Dean has to admit, he's never been privy to this type of intimacy and he's really starting to like it. He knows this isn't the same feeling he'd have if Castiel took the woman's place, yet this intimacy reminds him of his mother when she would bathe him as a child. He hasn't felt this since his mother died.

“The woman in white... Xia... she told me to look into my own life to get answers,” Dean comments. “Did she mean about the Mark of Grace? Is that what I'm looking for answers for?”

“There is a truth in your past that will surprise you, but it will also help pave the way to more questions,” she answers. “Questions you'll have to look elsewhere to find the answers to. It won't be easy, though with the help of your mate and his older brother... things should go a bit easier.”

“What if I don't look?”

“That choice is yours, boy,” Ming Yue comments with a smile to her tone. “As all choices are. I can only offer you the paths. You have two of them before you now. Walking one, you will find answers. Walking the other, you will find things to be more difficult. I won't say it will be impossible, but it will hold more fear and uncertainty. Knowing your past endeavors, however, fear and uncertainty is the food you've been bred on... isn't it?”

He has nothing to say to that, his eyes staring at the water instead. The bubbles haven't given way one bit, which is surprising and comforting at the same time. He tilts his head back as the woman in black rinses his hair, closing his eyes with a sigh of content. A hand with long fingers tipped in white painted nails runs through his hair, it's affectionate and soft. Afterward, she puts in some conditioner in the same manner as the shampoo.

It seems like forever that he soaks in the lavender scented waters, but it's so worth it. He's never felt so relaxed and blissful. The woman in black takes great care with him after her initial demanding efforts, which is shocking to him. She doesn't seem the type to really care about anyone. It's obvious she cares about her sister, whoever that is, yet Dean doesn't see her being soft to anyone but her.

“You have such shock awaiting you, Dean Winchester,” she sighs. “You, however, always take shock better than your brother. He wears the Mark of the Fallen, an angel wrapped in darkness... like Lucifer. That's the reason he was the perfect vessel that could contain Lucifer. I would visit _him_ , but he wouldn't take things as well as you. Your mind is calm and your heart has been stepped on so often you expect it. That's not how you _should_ feel, but I understand why you do. You need to open up to Castiel, though, he will never leave you and he'll always be there to catch you if you should fall.”

“Sam does that just fine.”

“But Sam is not your mate, Castiel is. Did you realize that he wrapped you in his wings last night? Do you even know the significance of that? His wings are the most intimate part of himself, not even the angel that raised him would dare to touch them... not now. As a cherub, he needed help cleaning them. Once he hit mating age, however, no one is allowed to even _breath_ on them unless they're his mate,” she explains. “You will be the _only_ creature in _any_ world to do so. You could at least return that honor with the one of giving him your heart.”

“... I can't. It just... doesn't seem fair! I didn't _want_ this! Someone else did this to us, it wasn't something we asked for!” Dean snaps more to himself.

“Oh boo-hoo, woe is me!” Ming Yue mocks dramatically. “Some greater power gifted me with the love of an angel that should never have found their soul-mate and it's just not fair! I should've been able to live my life whoring around, Castiel should've gone on never knowing love past the occasional meaningless romp. Boo-hoo-hoo.”

“... When you put it _that_ way...”

“You see? Not every gift is a curse, Dean,” she remarks. “You would do well to remember that in the future. Some gifts give you the option of stopping the apocalypse although fate has already written the world's end. Now, your bath is finished and I must be going. I've given you your paths of choice, the one to take is up to you.”

Dean opens his mouth to question her more, yet he opens his eyes in the tub he started in. The water to the shower has stopped and the tub is empty, but he's still wet and perfectly clean. He frowns and takes solace in the fact the steam still warms him, and then gets up to find a towel. He dries off quickly, the scratchy material rough against his skin. Suddenly, he realizes he forgot a change of clothes.

He opens the door minutely, surprised to see Castiel waiting with a change of clothes. He just stares at the angel a moment, at a loss for what to say, and then takes the clothes with a grateful sigh. He notes that the heater has been fixed, yet he doesn't recall anyone calling the repair man or the front desk. Before he closes the door, he grips Castiel's sleeve and gives a slight tug. Without even being told, the younger angel follows the hunter into the bathroom. He can hear a wolf whistle from Gabriel, which is immediately cut off by a hit from Sam. With a smirk, he makes a mental note to thank his brother later.

Within the bathroom, Castiel stands off to the side in wait. His eyes follow Dean's every movement, a soft hunger likely caused by memories of their morning. The angel's presence calms Dean almost as well at the lavender scented water. At the thought, he realizes that he needs to tell Castiel about the mark and the woman that have visited him. It pains him to think he's been keeping secrets from the other, a sharp twinge of guilt he's never felt this strongly before.

“Cas... I... I have to tell you something,” he murmurs with downcast eyes. “I haven't been completely truthful with you and I'm so sorry... I just didn't think it mattered any, honest. If I thought it was anything bad I would've told you right away, I swear.”

“Calm down, Dean,” he remarks softly. “Just tell me what you need to, I won't get angry.”

Dean says nothing more, just steps closer and shows Castiel his shoulder. The light plays over the thin golden lines branding into his skin, the sigil revealing itself slightly. Castiel raises a hand and gently runs his thumb along the edge, the whole mark lighting up with an otherworldly power. It has an ancient feeling to it, something that whispers of hopelessness turned acceptance. He's felt it before, this feeling lacing the mark on Dean, yet he was so very young and it was so very brief.

It's overpowering, the need to be held and assured, that Dean can't help himself. He sends a puppy eyed look that would make Sam proud to the angel, moving slighting closer before dropping his head to Castiel's shoulder. Those arms come around him without hesitation, seeming to understand the plight within Dean's mind better than the hunter himself. Yet the confessions aren't over yet and Dean presses on before he thinks better of it.

“It was left by Aphrodite,” he mumbles. “That woman in white, Xia, she told me there was a safety net between my soul and the afterlife. That I didn't have to worry about passing on anymore, though I'd still like to avoid unnecessary pain.”

“I would prefer that as well,” Castiel murmurs as he sets his chin atop Dean's head.

“When I was in the shower, another woman showed up,” he admits. “She was in black and looked almost _exactly_ like the woman in white from before. She said she stilled time to talk to me alone, that her name was Ming Yue and she was Xia's twin sister.”

Castiel stiffens at the thought of someone going near his mate in such a vulnerable state, especially without him knowing. His grip tightens around Dean and the hunter can sense the possessive intent of the embrace. He sighs into it, surprised he's so willing to let it pass. This is a haven, one that only he can feel safe in, and Dean is happy to admit that much. The comments from the lady in black about his wings keeps flowing persistently through his mind, his heart thrumming with the implications it brings up... but those same ones send his brain running.

“Cas... I want so badly to tell you so much, but... I just can't,” Dean admits quietly. “There's so much I feel, yet... I've never been good with that stuff. Feelings are Sam's deal, I just... I can't stand them. I can't face them... please understand...”

“Dean, you don't have to _say_ anything,” Castiel smiles softly. “I can hear your soul calling out to me, telling me everything your mouth cannot.”

Dean blushes at that comment, yet says nothing more. He's gotten everything off his chest for now, there's no need to speak anymore. Warm hands touch the curve of his back, reminding him of his state of undress, and Dean reluctantly pulls away to pull on some clothes. He expects Castiel to stay with him, yet doesn't argue when the angel heads to the door. He sighs and pulls on his boxers, listening to the soft conversation on the other side of the door.

Castiel is informing the other two of Dean's encounter, the worry in his tone only caught by Dean himself. He would almost place a bet that the angels are aware who those women are, yet they don't seem to be eager to jump to conclusions. He frowns as he pulls on his jeans, realizing they're the pair that hugs his ass a little tighter than the rest. He smirks, knowing Castiel picked them out for that reason. Who said an angel couldn't be a little selfish? With a chuckle, he pulls on his tee shirt and faces the door. Whatever has begun with these strange women, he's positive this isn't the last he's heard from them. They seem to be on a mission, though he can't tell what that mission is. So many questions were left behind by the woman in black, he can barely focus on them all. Dean sighs to steady himself, setting his features with determination. There may be a to deal with, but he has to take things one step at a time. Right now, he has to decide which path he'll be taking from the two pointed out to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes, I didn't re-read the chapter before I posted. I'm sort of busy tonight and it's late =( I'm so very sorry T^T Next time I'll make sure to.


	16. The Vampire, The Witch, and The Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's off to another hunt for the group, but this time the town is hit with two. They decide to divide and conquer, the Winchesters teaming up with their respective mate. While Sam and Gabriel take on a blackmailing witch, Dean and Cas go after what they believe to be a vampire. Before his hunt, however, Dean tells Cas he's going to look into his past as the twins suggested. That leads to a discovery that leaves Dean stunned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm just dropping in to post an update for all my wonderful readers =) I finished one of my cosplay outfits, so Pokémon Breeder in red is done XD That includes the bandana, which I made from scratch =D Anyway, here's your update XD

They didn't spend much more time within the town, finished with their mission and aching for another. The choice was made to move onto the next state instead of going back to the bunker, as there are two jobs waiting for them there. Divide and conquer seems to be the best idea here. Sam and Gabriel will be working on the witch that lives there, who's been praying on married men, and Dean will take on whatever's responsible for the disappearances. They normally wouldn't bother with such things, but one of the missing men turned up drained. All bets are on a vampire, so Castiel's been warned to keep a very close eye on Dean... especially after the time he was turned during a mission.

The day is dreary as they drive into the town they're looking for, the rain a power wash upon the impala. It does nothing to cheer the group up. The car has been so quiet, though there's the occasional irritated sigh from Castiel and the constant 'are we there yet' whine from Gabriel. Dean wonders why the trickster chose to ride in the backseat, he could've just as easily saved them the headaches by flying to his destination. Although, his argument was fair enough... they _are_ the only two angels with the ability to fly, as their wings aren't clipped like the rest. If they use this ability, it's likely the other angels will notice and blame them for being on Metatron's payroll.

The green-eyed hunter drowns out the bickering that's suddenly started up in the back. Gabriel has reached his limit of boredom, turning his attention to picking on Castiel. Though the younger angel is glaring for all he's worth, his older brother has yet to burst into flames... much to his ire. Sam snorts in humor from the passenger seat, reminded of how he and Dean used to be. The shorter hunter sends him a smile, but it's shaky and obviously hiding something. He's decided to look into his past, though he's not sure where he should start. If this mark is in his blood, then it would be logical to start with his parents. After all, whatever they had was passed onto him... right? He hasn't told the other three of his choice, not yet.

“Dean, pay attention!” Sam gasps out.

He's startled back to the now, shocked when the impala slides on the excessive rainfall. It takes a moment, yet he manages to get the car back under control. He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, carefully pulling the car into a parking lot. All eyes are on him, the green-eyed male bowing his head almost enough to rest on the wheel. Sam reaches over, setting a hand on his brother's shoulder. There's tension there, a lot of it, and he knows something is bother him.

“Dean, are you okay?”

“I just need sleep,” he mumbles. “I can't see anything past the windshield, I have no clue where the motel is in this town, and I have so much on my mind with those creepy women that I just can't take it.”

“... Switch seats with me,” Sam sighs. “I'll get us to the motel, you just need to sleep.”

With a weary nod, Dean and Sam begin to switch. It's a hassle, one that Gabriel finds great humor in, but they manage. Once they're seated, Sam puts the car in drive once more and Dean curls up against the window. Castiel is on the passenger side in the back seat, which soothes him now that he's closer to the angel that calls him his mate. Said angel sets a hand on his back from around the seat, rubbing reassuring circles there until he nods off.

When he wakes again, they're pulling into another parking lot. It's smaller than the last one, and a large hotel stands before them. Dean mutters under his breath before trying to get back to sleep. The rain hasn't let up much, so he's perfectly content to stay right there. It's not happening, though, as Sam exits the driver's side and hurries into the building. Gabriel doesn't appreciate the rain, so he disappears in the blink of an eye. So much for not revealing that talent to any angels paying attention.

“Dean, we should go inside,” Castiel states quietly. “I know you're tired and you don't want to get wet, but you would get better rest on a bed. Okay?”

“I just... don't want to move.”

“Should I carry you?”

“No!” Dean blushes. “I can walk!”

Castiel opens the door to get out, opening Dean's afterward. The hunter has no choice but to get out, leaving the angel to shut the doors before following him in. The entrance area is lavish; plush red leather chairs and couches are spread through the sitting area, the carpet is beige, and artsy photos are set up in random places on the walls. It's a relaxing atmosphere, with a water feature behind the desk, and Dean is a bit glad he gave in to Castiel's demands.

Sam and Gabriel are at the desk, the older angel ringing the bell adamantly until his lover grabs his hand. No one answers the impatient ringing, which only serves to irritate him further. Ignoring the blatantly annoyed features, Dean shivers beneath the contrast of the cold rain on his body and the warm heat from the vents. He finds himself in Castiel's arms again, suddenly uncaring if anyone were to see them like this. To hell with the rest of the world, Dean's freezing, damn it!

They join the other two at the counter. Finally, someone steps from the backroom to deal with them. It's a man with a muscular figure, wearing a button up shirt he's tucking in hurriedly and a pair of black slacks... which happen to be unzipped. The hunters exchange a look, silently passing on their giddiness at the chance to blackmail a free stay out of this jerk. They're beat to the punch, however, when Gabriel leans on the counter casually with an impish grin.

“So,” he stops to read the name tag, “... Derek. How was he?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Derek snaps.

“The new guy you hired,” he explains as though it's obvious. “You took him for a test drive, didn't you? He wants a raise, so he bent over for you. You know, your wife isn't going to like learning your stepping out on her with a teenaged boy that's barely legal.”

“... Who are you?” he asks suspiciously.

“Just a guy looking for a couple rooms for my brother and our lovers,” Gabriel grins. “I'll be persuaded to ignore everything I just saw, should you hook us up with some hospitality... if you know what I mean.”

There's a long moment of silence, and then Derek starts tapping on the computer. Once he's finished, he passes on a couple keys to them and tells them where their room is. Confused, they decide to just head up and check it out. The elevator is wide enough to give them plenty of room, so they spread out. Dean stares at his reflection in the doors, half asleep and ready to hit a pillow for more.

The doors slide open with a ding to announce the floor, Sam heading out first with Gabriel hot on his heels. If familiar hands hadn't guided him out, the green-eyed hunter probably would've stayed right there and nodded off. The hall is quiet and deserted, their room apparently set on one of the top floors. There's the occasional table topped with a vase of flowers, a landscape hanging on the walls here and there, and the lights overhead are chandeliers. If Gabriel didn't blackmail the manager here, they likely wouldn't have been able to afford it.

“Here we are,” Sam remarks.

He unlocks the door with a card key, pushing it open carefully. The last thing they need right now is a surprise attack. Although both angels are ready to defend, Sam is tired and Dean is about dead on his feet. There's no one there, but the sight before him has about the same effect of surprise anyway. At the gasp, both angels tense in caution.

The room is huge, complete with kitchenette and living area. It's lavish as well, with plush carpet and silken drapes. The widow is huge with a perfect view of the river and the city that surrounds it, the only thing blocking that view being the sheets of rain. Off to the right is a bedroom behind sliding glass doors, the bed a queen sized with thick blankets and a canopy. There's a walk-in closet on one side, a large wardrobe along a wall, and another door leading to a huge bathroom on the other side. Dean immediately falls face first onto the bed, uncaring about the rest of the house as long as he gets some shut eye.

Sam leaves him there, heading back out to check out the rest of the room. To the left of the entrance, there's a second bedroom with a bed just as big as the other. The bathroom is smaller, though not by much, and Gabriel is grinning widely at the sight of it all. He glances around to find that Castiel is missing, a slight frown crossing his lips before he begins to backtrack.

The younger angel is sitting on the end of the bed with Dean, blue eyes lain upon the hunter as he watches his mate quietly. The lavishness of the hotel room is lost upon the other. Gabriel checks to make sure Sam is within sight, the taller male sitting on the plush couch and setting his laptop on the coffee table there. He'll be searching for information on their case until he falls asleep. With a light sigh, he joins Castiel.

“You know, you should really try changing outfits every now and then,” he comments playfully. “The same old outfit can get boring after a bit. Besides, it's a lot easier to take off a couple pieces of clothing than a whole bunch.”

“... I'll keep that in mind,” Castiel murmurs with a roll of his eyes.

“You shouldn't worry so much, Dean is a strong man...”

“I can't help but worry, strong men attract too much trouble,” the brunette sighs. “I've found that these two seem to garner _far_ more than the normal amount.”

The other angel can't argue with that, it's completely true, so he just stands back up and heads out to see Sam. The taller man has already nodded off, his head tilted to rest on the back of the couch and his long legs stretched out beneath the table. With a chuckle, Gabriel carefully lifts the man into his arms and carries him into the other bedroom.

As he climbs into bed beside his mate, more to be near him than sleep, Castiel stands to leave Dean in peace. The green-eyed hunter grumbles in his slumber, stirring just enough to peek an emerald eye open. The gaze is fogged with sleep, yet still has enough intensity to still Castiel in his tracks. They stay like that for a long while, neither willing to break whatever spell has fallen over them.

“Where are you going?” Dean wonders.

“I was going to sit in the living area while you rest.”

“No you're not, you're going to strip down and lay with me tonight.”

There's silence at the demand, the angel uncertain how to answer it. Eventually, he concedes and begins undressing. He has to grudgingly admit that Gabriel was right, this suit has far too many pieces to it. Dean sits up long enough to pull off his tee shirt, kicks off his shoes, and then lays down to pull off his pants. Once he's down to his boxers, he lazily kicks the blankets down to get beneath them. He's left enough room for Castiel to join him, the angel sitting down in his own boxers before lying down. The blankets are tossed over him, the hunter wasting no time in laying his head on Castiel's chest. One arm drapes itself around the angel's waist and Castiel returns it with an embrace of his own. As Dean dozes off again, Castiel runs his fingers through short brown locks.

The next morning has Dean in the shower again, sighing in content as the hot water drowns his conflicts. Right now, it's just him and the silence of the bathroom. He was tempted to invite Castiel to join him, yet the angel definitely isn't in a hurry to step over boundaries. He's trying his best to give Dean the personal space he's always complaining about. Of course he'd decide to apply it right when the hunter doesn't want it.

He would've loved to cook breakfast this morning, but their supplies are too lacking for that. All they have is a couple bags of chips and a box of donuts. Not to mention, Gabriel is eager to snap up anything the two need... a true provider. At times he loves the ease of it all, but when the turmoil starts up in his mind all Dean wants to do is cook. It helps him forget all the things troubling him, helps him focus on something normal that has nothing to do with hunting or being hunted.

When he exits the bathroom, clothed only in a towel, Gabriel is looking through his clothes. Castiel isn't in the room, the hunter caught between retreating in mortification and advancing with the desire to kill. The trickster hums to himself as he sets a pair of jeans aside, going back to rummaging for a shirt. He doesn't pay any mind to Dean, probably doesn't even know he's watching in indignation from the doorway.

“What the hell are you doing in my bags!” Dean snaps.

“I'm bored with Cas's choice in clothing,” he shrugs. “He looks too much like a big boy for my liking, I want to make him look a bit younger. I figured you have that youthful rock-star look about you, it might look good on him, too. Plus... you're about the same height.”

“You're a fucking trickster, can't you just zap him some new ones?”

“But you have some perfectly good ones right here.”

“Dude! I want to get dressed!”

The conversation alerts Castiel to his mate's distress, the angel arriving with a huff. He grabs Gabriel by the back of his shirt, dragging him out of the room to give Dean some privacy. The hunter thanks him silently, creeping out of the bathroom slowly in case he has to retreat back in a hurry. When the bedroom door opens a second time, he's about to do just that... but it's only Sam and his retreat is abandoned.

“You feeling okay today?” Sam wonders as he takes a seat on the bed.

“Yeah, I feel fine. Did you find anything on the double case here? Are they connected?”

“No, not at all,” the younger Winchester remarks. “The witch is making women ill so their husbands will be more likely to step out on them. She picks the wealthy ones, so she can blackmail them later. As for your vampire... I'm sort of iffy about tagging it a vampire at this point in time.”

Dean stops in the middle of pulling on his jeans, his green eyes wide with question. He doesn't have to ask them aloud, the brothers have been able to read each other for many years now. His pause only lasts a moment, and then he pulls his jeans up the rest of the way. As he reaches for his shirt, Sam sets the computer on the bed. The news articles of all the disappearances are covering the screen, so the older hunter takes the time to skim them as he pulls the shirt over his head.

All the victims are men, young and healthy, and they're all last seen leaving a movie theater. He notes that their paths took them to the park, a rather rugged path that's nicely blocked by overgrowth and trees. The perfect place for an abduction. Unfortunately, these men would have fought back. Either the vampire is a woman, or there's another strategy applied here. Dean hums to himself, reading further. The first corpse was dumped around two weeks after their abduction, but the second victim disappeared after only a week. There have been six victims, four of which have turned up dead. If this pattern continues, Dean has three days to find the last two men before another is dumped for the coroner.

“Okay, so... vampires take more victims than that, but they're not greedy enough to kill them that fast. They tend to keep them alive for prolonged feeding. Each of their donors lasts a month, if not more. You're probably right, this might _not_ be a vampire. This creature is smart enough to throw all suspicion off them. If it were a vampire I would've pegged them for a young one, just learning how to control their hunger. It just doesn't fit right.”

“So what it is? Vampires we know, Dean. We can deal with them effortlessly. If this isn't a vampire, I'm not so eager to throw you into this case. I think we should switch.”

“I can handle this, Sammy,” the older male glares. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“I don't mean to, Dean, I just...”

Dean turns away, ending the conversation there. With a heavy sigh, his younger brother exits the bedroom to locate their companions. Once he's gone, Dean sits down and picks up the laptop. With a sly glance toward the door, he starts typing. He's never been as good at researching as his younger brother, yet he's not completely useless in that area either.

It takes a few minutes, but he finally manages to bring up the information on his parents. Birth certificates have nothing he didn't know before, though the family history he pulled up shows a lot of people he's never even heard of. He checks over any suspicious or illegal activity. Most of it would be under aliases, though a few are recorded beneath Mary's maiden name and John Winchester. Some of it is shocking to the hunter, his surprise easy to read on his face. He's glad he's alone within the room, or there would be a lot of questions he's not ready to answer.

“Dean?” Castiel calls uncertainly. “Are you ready? I thought we could stop at the diner to get you some breakfast. Gabriel and Sam have already left to question the sick women.”

“Uh... I'm ready, just hang on a second.”

He quickly closes out of the tabs he's using, shutting down Sam's laptop before shoving it beneath his pillow. Castiel enters just in time to see the action, confusion mixed with a bit of sadness flitting across his face. It passes quickly, though, hardly recognized by those without the bond Dean shares with him. As it were, the hunter can feel those emotions as if they were his own.

The guilt is instant, his brow creasing as he sits down on his vacated seat. He leans his forearms on his thighs, his head hanging in a sign of defeat. The room is so quiet, he wishes Sam were still there. His younger brother has always been better with words, whereas Dean is best with actions. With a sigh, he pats the mattress beside him. Though it takes a moment, Castiel joins him. This is the first time Dean's really seen him since he dragged Gabriel out of the room. He's wear tight jeans that no doubt hug is ass perfectly, a tee shirt with a band logo he probably doesn't even know, and a pair of combat boots.

“... I see Gabriel changed your look,” he murmurs.

“Yes, he was quite upset with my choice of clothing. He said it made me look too old,” Castiel sighs. “I find it easier to just go along with his plans, he'll get his way eventually anyhow.”

“What does it matter that you look older?”

“I think it's because he still wants me to be his little cherub,” the angel murmurs. “I've noticed similar desires within humans, the parents are always trying to prolong the youth of their children.”

There isn't much Dean can say to that, he's never been on the receiving end of that desire. Well, Bobby tried to let them be kids when he had them, but John never did. Dean had to grow up before his time to care for Sam, though he'd never change that given the chance. He did everything he could to give Sam time as a child, he really did, but his youth was stolen from him.

“Cas... I decided to look into my past to find out what those women were talking about,” he states. “I need to know what this sigil is from... I have to know what's going on with us.”

“I understand, Dean,” he remarks. “You felt you had to hide this from me, did you not? You don't, you know. I just want to help you, I want to keep you happy and safe. Please don't hide things from me in the future, or it'll be infinitely harder for me to complete that mission.”

“I'm sorry, I won't do it again,” he offers. “Just... don't tell Sam or Gabriel.”

Castiel nods, standing afterward. Before he can wander off, Dean gets to his feet and grabs his hand. They're still for a while, staring at one another intensely, and then the hunter pulls him closer almost shyly. His eyes are downcast, the angel hooking a finger beneath his chin to lift his gaze. With a slightly cocky smirk, Dean closes the distance between them and kisses Castiel. It's soft and chaste, his hesitance and uncertainty lacing it. The angel smiles against his lips, pulling him closer with a hand to his waist. There's no indefinite embrace, nothing to make Dean feel trapped or prevent him from pulling away should he want to.

Once the hunter pulls away, eyes averted and slight blush on his face, he steps toward the door. They've wasted enough time, they really need to start gathering information on the disappearances. They're walking out of the hotel not long afterward, the manager glaring after them balefully. Obviously, he doesn't take blackmail well unless he's the one doing it. Dean sends him a beaming grin, one of his most charming, on the way passed. It has the manager giving him a contemplative and lecherous once over. He's surprised to hear the possessive growl rumbling from Castiel, quiet and yet so very pointed. The hunter murmurs an apologetic 'sorry' as they step into the cool air.

The day is damp from the torrential rains of last night, mist clinging to the ground like a fluffy blanket. It soaks into Dean's clothes, sending the cold straight to his bones. He can see without much effort, and from years of roughing it on Bobby's camping trips, that there's going to be random drizzles throughout the day. The green-eyed male sighs, tucking his hands in his pockets as he walks beside Castiel.

The town is large and bustling, though it's so bleak out. Children are running about on their weekend, playing football in empty lots and lounging about the playgrounds. Dean watches a few men in a construction site, they've stopped work to whistle at a couple women walking down the sidewalk. He'd bet money they take time out of their day to go down that walk at least three times, they look like they enjoy the attention. After all, no soccer mom should wear a skirt that fucking short.

“You seem distracted today,” Castiel remarks curiously. “Are you worried about this case? Sam said he doubted it was a vampire.”

“I'm not worried,” Dean waves off. “You're with me, you won't let anything happen to me.”

“Of course I won't, Dean, but... there _will_ be times I won't be able to reach you. Like in that haunted house,” the angel admits reluctantly. “What if your memories are triggered again?”

“Cas, please,” he sighs. “I'm not worried, you shouldn't be either. Okay? We'll be fine, _I'll_ be fine. We'll figure out this case, gank that damn creature, and then we can figure out what to do next.”

His tone is soothing and Castiel finds himself relaxing to the sound of it. With a sigh he drops the subject. They step into the park, on the secluded path of before, to search for clues. The trees are stifling, grown too close together among knotted roots and thorn bushes. More than once the hunter almost falls right into the brambles, saved only by Castiel's quick reflexes.

The path may be thin, a jogger's path most likely, but there are a few benches to rest at. It's at one of these and Dean nearly collapses. Castiel sits beside him, allowing his gaze to turn to the canopy overhead with a content sigh. They enjoy one another's company, the quiet always peaceful and companionable. It's the only time Dean doesn't mind the silence. The hunter glances toward his mate, smirking more to himself, and then lays an arm across the back of the bench. After a moment, he grips Castiel's shoulder and pulls him closer.

“You know,” he muses aloud. “This place is pretty secluded...”

“Having public sex on a jogging path is highly inadvisable,” Castiel chuckles. “Unless of course you don't mind getting caught.”

“There's no one around.”

“There are people down the way, they're jogging in this direction. This is a _highly_ used path despite it being so narrow. I, for one, would prefer the comfort of a bed rather than a romp in the forest.”

“... Party pooper,” Dean sulks.

He's heard the expression enough by now to know what it means, so the angel simply smiles at his lover. Dean sighs and gazes upon the ground, humming to himself as his green eyes land on something. There's a couple drops of crimson on a rock there, his frown alerting his companion to new information. The hunter gets up and kneels by the rock across the path, looking around for anything else that might peg this as the area of attack.

There's a footprint in the brush not too far away, signs of a struggle; a piece of cloth on the brambles, kicked up dirt, and pressed down grass from rolling about in it. Dean glances over at Castiel, telling him without words to join him. Together, they carefully move further into the brush. Not too far from the trial, but far enough to be well hidden, is a small clearing. There's a blanket tucked into the hollow of a tree alongside it, which Dean carefully studies without removing.

“What's this for, I wonder,” he murmurs.

“I can't say, but I'm sure you have your theories.”

“... Each of the victims were healthy men,” Dean remarks in thought. “They would've been joggers, considering this is where they've vanished. They were probably in the middle of a routine at the time. What would draw them from the path to this spot?”

“If they held high morals, perhaps someone was in trouble and they came to help them.”

Dean nods as he moves back to study the scene. He tries to think what he would do had he been in their shoes. What would bring him out there. If it were a male calling for help and he were them, he would've been less likely to answer. As a hunter, he knows everyone is capable of getting harmed by what he kills. If he were a simple ignorant human, he wouldn't know that. He would assume the guy could handle himself... which would mean a woman was in trouble.

“It was a woman,” he comments. “A woman was calling for help and the men hurried to answer. When they got here, she let them get close to her before attacking them. If she weren't human, it would've been easy for her to overpower them. Then again... why would they get close enough if she were alone? Just seeing her alive would've been good enough for me. If she sprained her ankle, she would've had to have been on the trail. There's no reason to be this far out.”

“Perhaps she isn't working alone,” Castiel offers. “Or she lied about being attacked. She could've said that the attacker fled the scene.”

“I suppose, but... something about this seems so familiar.”

“How do you propose we deal with the next step?”

“We could interview family members, but I have to say I doubt we'll get anything. This seems like a crime of opportunity, like they had no clue who the victim was... they just happened to be the one that answered the call for help. I'm gonna have to say we should probably set a trap of our own.”

It's instantaneous, the drop in Castiel's gut. Just the sound of Dean's plan sends images of his precious mate lying bloody and broken on the grass. He knows it's a fear with no basis, but he can't help seeing it all the same. He knows what the hunter is planning, the angel only too happy he's regained his Grace. He'll need every ounce of his heavenly power to keep this troublesome man safe.

Sam sighs and leans heavily against a wall, he's just ended a grueling interview with the Travis household. James Travis was the third man to be seduced by the witch, his wife, Julia, cursed with fatigue so strong she could barely get out of bed. Just as the other four couples, her libido crashed and left her husband searching for an outlet. Just as the first two interviews he partook in, this one was tedious and filled with yelling... mostly between the husband and wife. Once the witch finishes with her tryst, the spell over the wife is lifted and she moves onto the next target.

As it were, she's already blackmailed the first three men. It would seem her affairs last three weeks depending on how satisfying her partner happens to be. This last victim must be something, as she's been working them over for almost two months now. He was told she's a beautiful redhead with large green eyes, an hourglass figure, and fair skin.

“Wow,” Gabriel murmurs. “Promise me _we'll_ never be like that.”

“I promise,” he remarks easily. “I'll just shoot you.”

“... And I can see that happening,” the angel frowns. “Oh well. What did you gather from them? I gathered a pounding headache and a new appreciation for your brother's company.”

“The woman he described... it was the same description as the first two victims,” Sam informs. “This witch, she must be pretty sure of herself... she's either using the same alias, or she's using her own name. She's given the same name to all of the men she's targeted... Rebecca Marlow. She lives outside the city limits in a small cottage.”

“Then where's all the money going?”

“Who knows. Let's go pay her a visit.”

Sam and Gabriel run into Dean and Castiel on their way to Rebecca's, so they all stop to eat lunch. While they sit in the corner booth away from other customers, they share the information they've managed to get so far. Cases have never fallen so neatly for them, which earns a slight wariness from the group.

Dean munches on his fries as Sam talks, only half paying attention to his brother. His mind is on the laptop beneath his pillow. He and Castiel were on their way back to the hotel, where he was planning on continuing with his search on his parents. He's hoping to find something in their hospital files. They honestly don't have anything to keep them busy until tonight, though Dean won't mind Castiel occupying his time.

“Dude, are you even _listening_ to me?” Sam frowns.

“Uh... yes?”

“Where's your mind at, Dean?”

“Between the sheets with Cas,” the shorter hunter grins cheekily. “Where's yours?”

“On our _cases_! I said we're going to go visit Rebecca Marlow after lunch, what are you two doing on your case?”

“Oh, tonight I'm gonna play bait,” he waves off. “I'm gonna get abducted to find the other two guys and Cas is going to follow me with his angel powers.”

He knows his younger brother isn't happy with the idea, yet he holds up a hand to quiet him. He refuses to have another argument about this, about his brother's inability to let him be. Dean can handle a simple hunt. Just because he freaked out during the last one, doesn't mean it'll happen again. He's good this time.

Sam cuts him a break, if only this time, and goes back to his salad. He's not eager to rush head first into the house of a powerful witch, but at least he has Gabriel with him. Hopefully the trickster is in a helpful mood, because he certainly wasn't earlier. He practically goaded those fights and sat grinning like a Cheshire cat while he watched. Sam wanted to beat him over the head with the nearest heavy object.

When lunch is finished, the four split up. Sam and Gabriel take the impala, as the cottage is more than a simple walk down the street. They won't be back until later, which means Dean and Castiel will be in the park by the time they return. That's perfectly fine with Dean, that just means more time for himself... and possibly a romp with a sexy angel.

The hotel room is a bit chilly when they step into it, probably an attempt at retribution by the manager. Dean doesn't mind it, it's not completely unbearable at the moment. He grabs Castiel and pulls him to the bedroom. Once he gets there, Dean kicks off his shoes and crawls beneath the blanket atop their bed. Castiel joins him quietly, always silent and observant, and Dean pulls the laptop back out. He turns to lie on his stomach, the angel stretching out on his back before tucking his arms beneath his head.

The hospital information is lacking for Mary Winchester, though it's most likely because she was using aliases. Most of the records are from after she married John. There isn't much there, just the occasional cold or infection. A couple from kitchen accidents. He's about to give up when those green orbs sweep over something from a doctor specializing in reproduction. Apparently, she was having trouble conceiving. Dean grimaces at the thought, yet reads the file anyway. What he sees has him gasping in shock.

“What's wrong, Dean?” Castiel wonders softly.

“Uh... nothing,” he comments. “It's probably just a mistake on the doctor's part... it has to be.”

“... Are you sure?”

He sits up and casts a questioning gaze on the hunter, who doesn't seem to notice. After a few seconds, the angel reaches over to caress Dean's cheek. He turns the hunter's head toward him, locking their eyes with his intense stare. Though he tries valiantly to hide from that all-knowing gaze, Dean simply can't. He takes a deep breath and passes Sam's laptop over to his lover, green eyes averted as it's taken. Castiel reads over the information, a slight frown upon his lips, and then sets it on the bedside table carefully.

“Please tell me it could've been a mistake by the doctor,” Dean whispers.

“... I wish I could, but I highly doubt it.”

“If it's true then... what the hell _am_ I? What's Sammy? Are we even _human_ anymore? Were we ever? Cas, I... I don't think I can ever unlearn this! This is... life altering!” the hunter slightly panics. “I don't even know what to _think_ anymore!”

Castiel sighs and pulls the other to him, holding him close in an effort to comfort him. He knows this is shocking, yet he's also aware that Dean has the ability to take this far better than Sam. Unlike his brother, Dean expects stuff like this to happen every now and then. He closes his blue eyes and breathes in the hunter's scent. They have a while until dinner and even longer before Dean plays bait... he's sorely tempted to knock the other out and deal with this creature himself. If only his hunter wouldn't be completely pissed about missing the hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm sorry for any mistakes. It's way late and I just can't keep my mind on rereading =( I don't think there are many, but... well... you never really catch them all even when you DO reread T^T They're evil. Anyway... Until next time, my wonderful readers XD


	17. The Story of Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabriel head out to confront Rebecca Marlow, the town witch. She's eager to add Sam to her list of conquests, but Gabriel isn't about to have that. In the meantime, Dean is playing bait for their vampire. His jog down the narrow path leads him try rescuing a damsel in distress... only to learn it isn't a vampire he's looking for. Thankfully, Castiel is hovering Dean with his angel power and rescues him before he becomes dinner. After the chaos has ended, the brothers meet back up at the hotel and Dean is forced to tell Sam their whole lives were a lie. The information reminds Gabriel of a story Michael used to tell him, which he shares with the others. The universe has a much higher power than their Father watching over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone =) I hope your days are going wonderful... mine started too early =( Anyway, I'm taking the day off from sewing because it killed my back yesterday. I'll be working on my outline for Asylum (probably not to much ;p ), 'Angels Among Us' (still not liking that title), and my new Supernatural fic 'Loki's Cherubs'. I figured it was time to punish him a bit and leave Dean alone ;p Lol! Anyhow, that's my day today =D Enjoy your update XD

The forest is peaceful within the haze of moisture cloaking it, the trees whispering in the breeze that rattles their limbs. The sun hasn't set yet, though it's getting to be that time. Sam and Gabriel didn't stop for dinner, the trickster just zapped up a sandwich for his mate on the way. It's a trick Sam is getting to like even more every time it's used. The gravel path crunches beneath the impala's tires as he slowly drives up to the house. It's a small cottage with a large garden, he can see herbs scattered throughout the blossoms as they get closer. With a sigh, he turns off the car and gets out. Gabriel cloaks his presence, yet stays close to the hunter. He's just curious how this witch will react to his mate, though he'll step in if she steps over any boundaries he's erected.

Sam huddles into his jacket at the chill upon the air, stopping at the front door and raising a fist to knock. It isn't long before a redheaded woman with large green eyes answer it, the smile she sends him very fetching and coy. Her eyes are a shade or two lighter than Dean's, a finger twisting in her long locks as she leans against the door frame.

“Well hello,” she almost purrs. “How can I help you?”

“My name is James Galveston, I'm with the FBI. I'm investigating the recent breakout of blackmailing incidents,” Sam offers. “You're Rebecca Marlow?”

“I'll be whoever you want me to be.”

“Please, mam, I'm here on business,” he frowns. “I haven't time to play games. Are you Rebecca Marlow?”

“Yes, I am. Would you like to come in?”

He nods and she moves out of the way, smiling as he walks by. Gabriel holds back a jealous growl when her eyes drop down to check out Sam's ass. He slips in before she can shut the door, watching as the witch glides over to Sam. The hunter is standing listlessly in the hall, warily following the redhead into the sitting area. There's a fire roaring in the fireplace, two overstuffed armchairs placed before it. On the mantelpiece sits a candelabra, a couple pictures, and a jar of some pinkish liquid.

“I was just about to sit down for a cup of tea,” Rebecca smiles kindly. “Would you like to join me? Or perhaps, I could open a new bottle of wine and we could... get to know one another better.”

“I don't think my _husband_ would appreciate that,” Sam remarks firmly.

Gabriel grins widely at that, stepping up behind Sam and stretching to kiss the back of his neck. In the hunter's defense, he manages to withhold the shiver that wants to race along his spine. The trickster snickers to himself, watching as Rebecca fumbles to hide her surprise. After a moment, she laughs it off and shakes her head.

It's obvious she wasn't expecting the revelation, most likely assumed this would be yet another successful man to blackmail. The angel is more than happy with the fact that won't be happening... not that it would any other time. He would destroy this woman a second before she manages to touch the hunter. She excuses herself to the kitchen and offers Sam to make himself comfortable. She returns moments later with a silver tray topped with a bowl of sugar, a teapot, and a couple teacups.

“Here we go,” she smiles.

“Thank you,” Sam replies as she hands him a cup.

“Now, what are you here for?”

“I interviewed each of the men blackmailed, they all seem to be connected to you. They said they had an affair with you, that after you broke it off the first letter came to them. I thought you would like to give your side of the story.”

She's watching the cup in his hands, he can tell that much. She probably dropped in a potion of some sort. This woman isn't used to being denied what she wants, so the small matter of Sam playing for the other team won't get her down. Sam, instead, plays with the teacup dwarfed in his hands. Rebecca frowns, yet it passes quickly. She sighs and leans back, deciding to start at the beginning and make the story long. The longer it is, the more chance Sam will drink from the spiked tea.

He's quiet the whole time, yet Gabriel is rolling his eyes and huffing in boredom. His fingers twitch at every lie, the trickster in him begging to go all out on this bitch that's trying to steal his mate. Sam shows no interest in her, though, and that's the only thing that's saving her. Finally, they can catch the impatience in her eyes.

“You must be thirsty,” she presses. “You'll hurt my feelings if you don't at least _taste_ the tea. It's my mother's old family recipe.”

“I'm sure it's very delicious, but I promised my husband I wouldn't accept drinks from strangers...he's afraid they'll drug me.”

“You're afraid of little old me, are you?” she asks teasingly.

“A promise is a promise, I'm afraid. I never break a promise to my husband.”

“... I see you don't wear a ring.”

“He's still looking, said he wanted to get the perfect one.”

She gives a short laugh, trying hard to hide the irritation in her eyes. It won't be much longer and she'll break. A few more moments of discussing her connection with all the victims, and then Sam is getting up to leave. Gabriel breathes a sigh of relief, shadowing the hunter as he moves toward the door. He opens it to exit... and a murmur from Rebecca has the door slamming shut with a click of the lock. Sam gasps and turns quickly to face the witch.

“I tried to be nice about this, but you're simply not working with me,” she sighs in exasperation. “I don't care if you have a husband, I want you. I _always_ get what I want, you'll be no different. Now, drink the damn tea.”

“No thanks, I've already been the victim of a love potion,” Sam bristles.

“I can see why, you're simply irresistible. I can't _wait_ until you're mine.”

“You're really stepping over some fine lines there,” Sam warns. “My husband won't appreciate this and he's not someone you want to piss off... even if you happen to be a witch.”

She stops a moment, surprised at the comment. Even though she's just shut and locked the door, most people attribute it to a strong breeze and never pay attention to the lock. Now that he's revealed her as the creature she is, she knows he's a hunter. Doesn't make her want him one bit less, however. With a hunter at her side, she can ward off any others that come for her.

Sam notes the evil smirk on her lips, standing his ground as she steps forward. There's a sway to her step, her attempt at being seductive. When she gets only a step away from the hunter, her hand sets on his chest and raises up to caress his cheek. He pulls away with a frown, blue eyes glancing to a spot behind her. Gabriel has appeared in all his fury, golden eyes glinting with murderous intent and hands balled into fist at his sides.

“... Did I forget to mention my husband is the Norse god, Loki?” Sam asks with a smirk.

Rebecca gasps and backs away as though she's been burned, turning to see an infuriated Loki standing in the doorway to her sitting room. She tries to get away, however Gabriel is too fast. He has her by the throat faster than Sam can blink. The room is filled with anger and hate, the emotions creating a cloud that settles heavily upon them all. Rebecca's eyes are wide with shock and fear, her hands gripping Gabriel's wrist as he lifts her off the floor.

Sam reaches to grasp his upper arm lightly, almost pleading for the woman's life. His unvoiced request goes unanswered, Gabriel's heavenly power smiting the witch before he can say anything. Her body falls to the floor, eyes burned out and mouth opened in a silent scream of agony. Sam is quiet, eyes unable to tear themselves away from the body. Gabriel wraps an arm around his waist, carefully leading his mate out of the cottage. Seeming in a trance, Sam gets in the impala and turns it on. As he pulls out of the driveway with Gabriel in the passenger seat, he makes a mental note to never let another person try and take him from his mate. If he acts like this every time someone tries to convince him to stray, he has no doubt they'll end up _exactly_ like the couples they interviewed.

The sun has hit the horizon a few minutes ago and Dean has begun to make his way to the park with Castiel. The angel is worried about this little trap, he doesn't like the idea of Dean acting as bait... especially after his failure at the haunted house. The streets are deserted, only the occasional car driving by and a patron of the bar or two stumbling out. The mist still hangs heavily in the air, blanketing the town and filling Castiel with even more reservation.

“Don't look so down,” Dean comments lightly. “It's a beautiful night out, lighten up.”

“I just can't help thinking I'll let you down.”

“Dude, you'll never let me down,” the hunter smiles softly. “I know you'll do everything in your power to keep me safe, I'm not worried in the least.”

They stop at the beginning of the jogging path, Dean dressed in jogging pants and a hoodie. In all honesty, he would've preferred Sam do the jogging. It's not that he's out of shape, he's actually extremely fit, it's just that he likes running down targets... not running for the hell of it. He does a few stretches, noting how Castiel's eyes rove over his body, and grins teasingly at the angel.

He steps up to his mate, kissing him lightly on the lips. A hand in his hair demands more than just a chaste touch of lips, so Dean opens his mouth to the blue eyed man. Castiel's tongue slips past his lips, sliding along Dean's teeth before coaxing the hunter's tongue into a brief sparring match. He's reluctant to let the hunter go. Once he does, however, he receives a cocky grin before Dean turns around and jogs off.

The dampness from the fog is soaking into his clothes as he moves along, the silence almost relaxing if he didn't know what he's hoping to run into. The wind is gentle and the rustling of the trees has his instincts on high alert, green orbs darting to and fro as he makes his way. Just as he reaches the spot he rested at with Castiel earlier, he hears a voice. It's panicked and scared, crying out for help. He stops and listens. It's a young woman, maybe even a teenager, and he finds himself moving toward the hollering. He knows Castiel won't be far from him, as he has the ability to find him no matter the sigils or hex bags hiding his presence... the joys of having an angel for a mate.

“Hello?” Dean calls. “Are you okay?”

He steps out into the clearing, catching sight of a young raven haired woman sitting on a blanket. Her clothes are torn and there are smears of blood on her thighs, a masked figure larger than her pinning her to the blanket roughly. He can feel himself freeze at the sight, his body caught between shivering in fear and fleeing to get away. Dean reminds himself that Castiel is close by, he won't let anyone hurt him like that again, and forces himself to step forward.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Hey, get away from her!”

A few quick steps closer and his hand is on the masked man's shoulder, yanking him back to get him away from the woman. He keeps himself between the two, uncertainty warring with his need to protect others. Before he can land a punch on the guy across from him, he can feel the woman's arms around his shoulders... and her teeth are in his shoulder. Venom flows into the bite, paralyzing him. As his legs give out beneath him, the woman holds him up easily before laying him on the blanket.

Dean's eyes are wide as he's lain back, his breathing picking up when the masked man steps over to loom above him. They pull their mask off, revealing a woman with dark brown hair. It's cut short and he can tell if they're a couple she would be the dominant one.

“Vetela,” Dean hisses out.

“Oh my, a hunter,” the raven grins. “How lucky are we?”

“Hunters always last longer than humans, they're so much stronger,” the brunette smirks. “And we were lucky enough to bag such an _attractive_ one. Tell me, hunter, are you alone? Does anyone know you're here?”

His lips press together stubbornly, eyes moving away so he doesn't have to look upon the snake-like women. He remembers the first time he came across these things, he was on a mission to locate Sam and another hunter. His company then was a young teenager named Krissy, who was the hunter's daughter. She managed to fake out one of the Vetela and kill them. She became a hunter as well, after her father was killed when they tried to retire. For some reason, hunters only seem to have one retirement plan... death.

The green-eyed man knows Castiel will hold back as long as possible, as he told him to. They want to find the last victims, not kill the monster before locating them. Though he wants to call out for the angel with every fiber of his being, he presses down the urge violently. Without another word, the brunette grabs his wrist and yanks him onto his feet. She meets his middle with her shoulder, letting him fold over it before lifting him off the ground. She's strong and she faintly reminds him of the Amazons. His heart thuds in his chest at the thought, the hunter closing his eyes as he's carried off into the trees.

He falls asleep somewhere along the way, as he's being totted into an abandoned cabin when he wakes. There are two men lying on the floor, one is propped up against the wall in the corner. They look drained, but both are still breathing. Dean is dropped onto the floor and both women kneel on either side of him. One runs their hand through his hair, a strangely empty action when not performed by Castiel. He flinches away from the touch. They grip his wrists and get out a roll of duct tape to bind him.

“You're making a big mistake,” Dean murmurs out.

“ _You_ did, when you hunted us down. Isn't that right, Mindy?” the brunette sneers.

“Too true, Trish. And now you'll pay for it with your life.”

“Actually... _you'll_ be paying with _your_ life,” the cocky hunter chuckles. “You see, I've recently entered a rather strange relationship... I just got married in a sense. My mate... isn't human. In fact, he's standing right behind you.”

The women turn their heads so fast he swears they have whiplash. Castiel is towering over them, his blue eyes alight with both heavenly power and equally heavenly wrath. One hand is on each of their heads, their eyes eaten by pure white light as he smites them. Dean closes his eyes at the sight, wishing he could cover his ears to block out the screams, and then there's a weight on his legs. His breath hitches and he begins to panic, eyes popping open to see his angel pulling the raven haired woman off his lap.

“I apologize, Dean, that wasn't my intention,” Castiel murmurs.

“No problem, man.”

Carefully, Castiel takes the knife from Dean's boot and cuts through the duct tape on his wrists. Once he's positive his mate is safe, he allows him to free the other two men. They're unconscious and likely won't be waking without medical attention. He helps one to his feet and Castiel gets the other, both of them moving to the exit. It'll be a long walk, but the hospital should be close to their current position. Just outside the tree line.

Sam and Gabriel are lounging on the couch when the door opens, the other half of their group joining them. Dean doesn't pay attention to them, immediately starting to pace the length of the kitchen. Castiel takes up the stool at the breakfast bar, sitting quietly as his eyes follow the hunter. It only takes a moment for Dean to stop and look toward his brother. He doesn't need a neon sign to know the two are freshly showered and likely had sex while they were gone... he _is_ the king of hook-ups after all.

“Oh my god! Sammy, you _didn't_!” he shouts in disbelief.

“... Didn't what?” the taller male wonders in confusion.

“You and Gabriel were _screwing_ while we were risking our lives to save two innocent men from a couple of Vetela! How _could_ you!”

“How the hell can you even tell?” Sam utters in shock.

“ _Hello_! I've only been hooking up with random chicks since high school! You think I can't tell when my own brother's been banging with his soul-mate?”

“... I honestly have nothing to say to that.”

Gabriel is laughing at the interaction, always finding humor in the Winchester males. They've completely threw out their cases just to argue. Castiel sighs, knowing this argument isn't about their brother's having sex... but more about the information Dean doesn't want to share. He's looking for any reason to close up and ignore the fact Sam should be aware of what he's found. With an exasperated sigh, he stands up and reaches for Dean. The hunter gasps when a hand closes over his mouth, pulling him back until his back is flat against the angel's chest.

“Dean, stop avoiding the talk you know Sam has the right to have with you,” he scolds. “Now, you're both going to tell each other how your hunts went, and then you're going to sit down and speak to one another about these markings.”

“Wow, go, Cas,” Gabriel grins widely. “Getting all dominant and demanding. It makes me so proud to know I'm the one that instilled that quality in you.”

Dean and Sam roll their eyes at the comment. The green-eyed male is eager to continue his evasive tactics, yet he knows Castiel won't allow it. With a baleful glare at his mate, he takes a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. Sam takes one of the other ones, laying an arm on the counter as he faces his brother.

He can see the emotions warring in Dean's eyes, a slight frown touching his lips at the sight. When this happens, nothing good ever comes of it. By now, Gabriel has grown curious and has made his way over. He's standing beside Sam and watches the other hunter just as avidly. Time seems to stretch on, slowing minutely as the quiet becomes thick and heavy in the room. Every tiny sound seems to be amplified; the water dripping in the kitchen sink, the clock ticking on the wall, even the hum of the lights and the radiator across the room. It makes Sam nervous. Finally, Castiel sets a hand on Dean's shoulder for reassurance and the hunter takes in a deep breath.

“Sammy... I looked into our parents' past while I was waiting to go for that jog,” he remarks. “I know that doesn't sound really bad, but... I found something... something about mom. I thought maybe it was a mistake, but... I'm really beginning to doubt it.”

“Dean, you're starting to worry me,” the taller male sighs. “I know we're both having difficulties with this whole heavenly mark thing, but... I think you're beginning to see things that just aren't there. Whatever you found, you probably made it out to be something way more than it is.”

“No, you're wrong. I'm not having trouble with it... _you_ are.”

The angels listening hold their breath as Dean levels Sam with a glare. The taller male has an expression of shock on his face, those large puppy eyes even larger as his mouth works for words. He never gets the chance to find those words, as Dean stands from his seat and begins pacing again. It doesn't last as long as before, however, and soon he's running a hand through his hair with a sigh. Those green eyes search out his brother's blue, keeping their gazes locked as he continues.

“Sammy, those women... they visited me because they know I'm always waiting for the next shitty thing to happen to us. I have _no_ hope for a happy life beyond the hunt. I know what's out there, I don't lie to myself and say everything will be fine... that someday we'll have that apple pie life and retire from the hunt. I know better. You, though... you always have hope, you're always looking for the next wonderful thing to happen to us. You're so fucking optimistic it makes my teeth hurt.”

“Dean...”

“Don't you get it, Sammy? This is going to change our whole fucking _lives_!” the older hunter bristles. “Mom couldn't have kids! Not _ever_! Her body didn't produce any eggs, there was _no possible_ way for the doctors to fix her! We should _never_ have been born!”

Sam's face loses color at that, confusion fighting with complete stupefaction on his face. Dean sighs and takes his seat again, relishing the arm that loosely wraps around the small of his back. He didn't want to blurt it all out like that, he had wanted to tell Sam with a little more tact... but he was never known for tact. Gabriel's brows are dipped in thought, a corner of his lips pulled down as he stares at the floor. This sounds so familiar, like a story he was told millenniums ago. He wracks his brain to figure it out, shutting out everything else. He doesn't notice how his mate's eyes watch him in worry, or how the brother he raised chews on his bottom lip anxiously.

The trickster closes his eyes, sifting through his memory in search of an answer. There are so many there, his fondest tucked away and gone through almost daily. Those are the ones with his brother and Aphrodite, their tiny family thrown together out of necessity and friendship. He would've mated her had his heart not told him there was another he needed to be with. Finally, he finds what he's looking for.

“I know what happened,” he murmurs. “I know what happened, how your mother could have children even though she was barren! I can't _believe_ I didn't think of this before!”

“... Care to share?” Dean deadpans.

“It's a story Micheal used to tell me, about someone greater than our Father. I always thought he was full of shit before I actually met them... though... that memory is vague and hazy. Anyway, before the world and our Father, the stars gave birth to a woman. She was made from the sun itself, her reflection born of the moon... her brother. I believe he told me they were fraternal twins. Anyway, together they created our Father and gave him the choice of keeping things as is or creating the worlds we know now.

After he created earth and heaven, he made his archangels. We were restless and didn't have much to do, so he started to create the cherubs for us to look after. When he finally created humans, the woman went down to walk among them. She yearned for a child, but her bloodline could never be passed on. She was the deity of balance and to reproduce would set that balance askew. So she went without.

One day, while walking the earth, she met another woman that was barren. She felt for her and wanted to give her the gift of life that she could never have. This woman couldn't produce eggs, but the deity _could_. She gave one of her eggs to the human and waited. The woman laid with her husband and became pregnant. The baby, unable to contain the kind of power that would come with the deity's genetics, rejected her DNA and adopted that of the human carrying it.

Pleased with the results, the deity made a habit of gifting barren women with a life to raise and nurture. Not _once_ did these children embrace her genetics, so the balance was set in stone and she didn't worry about harming it. The world would turn as it always did and the gifts she gave would be considered miracles.”

Dean and Sam listen to the story, both enthralled even as they wonder why they haven't come across it before. Bobby told them all sorts of myths and legends, he knew every last one... but not this one. It's cause for concern, though they hold off on that for now. As it is, Gabriel has finished without telling them a damn thing about how that explains everything.

The older hunter sighs in frustration, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. He's exhausted and his neck still hurts from the bite the Vetela gave him. Though he was aware he was injured, his priorities were to take care of the victims left behind. When Castiel went to heal him before, he refused. It wasn't life threatening, it wasn't important. Now he can feel the warmth of the angel's ability on his skin, though he's aware Castiel isn't doing anything. He must have healed himself at the thought of wishing he had let the angel do it earlier.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Sam wonders.

“Yeah, I'm fine... just healed a Vetela bite, that's all. I wasn't expecting that to happen,” he murmurs. “So... you think this deity is the one that gifted mom with us?”

“I do. It's odd, though... why would you two embrace her genetics like that? No one else ever did. Why now, after all those many years, would she accidentally reproduce? It just doesn't make sense.”

“Well, the angels said our parents' union was unheard of,” Sam offers. “That they literally _hated_ each other before the angels sent a cupid to change their minds. If we were strong enough to house Micheal and Lucifer, the two most powerful archangels, and garner all this attention from so many strong creatures... maybe there was something about that union that changed things.”

“That could very well be,” Castiel agrees. “The angels were ordered to keep an eye on you both while you grew up. Even then they were aware you were both something special... maybe they just didn't realize _how_ special. Had your mother... the deity... learned of their plans to pit you against one another in the fight of the apocalypse, it would explain the choice I was given later on.”

Both hunters turn to look at Castiel, his incredibly blue eyes staring hard at the floor in shame. They know what he's talking about, he's talking about the Leviathans. Though they don't follow his train of thought, they urge him to continue. He's reluctant to, the memories pouring salt on newly opened wounds. It stings and will continue to do so. At the silence that follows, Dean gets up and pulls his lover to the couch. The other two follow, one sitting on a chair and the other on the couch. Dean sits on the coffee table across from Castiel, his eyes searching for those of the angel.

When they finally catch sight of the blue, those green orbs lock onto them. There's no judgment, no anger, and it makes it easier to relax. The onslaught of guilt and shame is strong, always like a waterfall's current as it pulls him down to drown in their depths. Dean has never liked that look, though just as before he says nothing about it. He relies on Sam to get through the emotional shit that turns his stomach and doesn't seem to get past the spontaneous lump in his throat.

“Cas, you know we aren't angry at you for all that,” Sam states. “We never were. It's not like we didn't do completely crazy and dangerous shit to help one another out.”

“... Hey, what the hell are you looking at _me_ for!” Dean snaps at the pointed glance Sam gives him. “I'm not the _only_ one that did stupid shit!”

“My point is, we have no room to throw stones, okay? Just... keep going. Explain to us why you think this deity dealt you such a shitty card.”

“I felt I had no choice when I partnered with Crowley to find Purgatory,” Castiel sighs. “The truth is... I didn't. I was given only a _single_ choice, and that was the path I followed. The deity of balance was playing a spiteful card, sending me to destroy the angels that sided with Raphael... the ones that wanted to pit you both against one another again, raising Lucifer and Michael to finish what they started. It was a punishment... and a warning. One the angels refused to see. She wasn't happy her children were being targeted, especially not when they had yet to unlock their bloodline. She was protecting you both.”

There's that silence again, though this time is awkward and filled with mixed feelings. Sam is completely confused, there's no other word to describe the expression on his puppy eyed face, but Dean... Dean is pissed. How dare Castiel tell him some heavenly being is looking out for him, not after everything he's been through. No, he won't except that. They can all feel the rage flowing through the hunter's veins, no one saying another word lest he explode.

Footsteps against the tiles is all that's heard before the door slams shut. Sam sighs, knowing it's useless talking to Dean when he's this worked up. He needs to walk, do something to get his mind off of everything. If he doesn't, the anger will eat him up until he lashes out at the first person that irritates him. The way this is going, it's likely to be the trickster he holds a grudge against. Castiel doesn't follow, knowing just as well as Sam how the older hunter can be in the throws of his rage.

He doesn't watch where he's going, just keeps walking. The chill on the air doesn't register, the cars blaring their horns as they pass lost upon him. It's a nice night, the fog finally starting to lift, and Dean knows it won't be long before the sun peeks over the horizon. His encounter with the Vetela lasted longer than he had anticipated, as it's nearly midnight. With a sigh, he turns onto the jogging path. Just as before, the trees whisper to him. _Unlike_ before, however, their limbs reach out to him in a comforting manner. It only serves to give him chills.

Not too far from where he veered off the path earlier, he finds the bench and takes a seat in the center of it. Too tired to check his surroundings for any potential threats, he lays his head on the back of the bench and closes his eyes. The sky of shimmering stars peeks between holes in the canopy overhead, the moon's waning light spilling through undeterred. It's a majestic sight, one he would've happily enjoyed at any other time. Right now, however, he's just too tired. The anger he felt before has slowly waned, leaving him psychically and emotionally drained.

“Such a beautiful night,” a voice at his right states.

“I agree. It's so rare to get one here at this time of year,” another comments from his left.

Dean can't even jump in surprise he's so tired. He doesn't open his eyes, he recognizes the voices, but he does give a whining groan of frustration. When those green pools finally peek open, he finds Ming Yue on his right and Xia is on his left. Both have their legs crossed at the knee, both have their arms stretched along the back of the bench. His head is pillowed where they lay atop one another behind him.

“Fucking perfect,” he sighs. “The double-mint twins. What the hell do you want now?”

“You've heard the story of the deity of balance, correct?” Ming Yue asks.

“Yeah, she gifted barren women with a child. Gabriel told us. Just so happens, Mary Winchester wasn't able to have children... which means Sam and I aren't really human.”

“That depends on your definition of human,” Xia remarks. “If that means having a soul, the ability to get injured, and the tendency to get sick... then you're perfectly human! You just have a few abilities they don't.”

The glare sent her way leaves no room to doubt his irritation. Xia sends him a sheepish smile in return, the gesture so innocent it has the hunter rolling his eyes. He turns his gaze back to the trees before him, watching a few leaves dancing in the wind. They twirl and loop, finally landing gracefully upon the ground. The sight is relaxing if anything, and Dean lets out a content sigh.

It's not to be had, however, as the presence of the women sticks with him like a bad taste. He doesn't have anything against them... yet... but there's just something about them that makes him unnerved. Maybe it's that feeling of ancient power they give off, or the way they seem as though they could squash entire civilizations with a blink and treat him so softly. Like always, that hammer raises and waits for the moment it can drop. For the moment it can break the gates of Hell and overwhelm the hunter with the evils of the world.

“Why are you still here?” he remarks bitterly. “The whole point of going for a walk is to let off some steam _alone_! Not sit and listen to the cryptic double-mint twins as they jabber on about nothing.”

“We're hurt, Deanie-baby,” Ming Yue mocks. “We never speak to someone unless it's important. That story of the deity was true in many facts... but not all of them. There were _two_ deities of balance, that's why there's _two_ children of Mary Winchester. If not, she only would've had you. You were unexpected, so the deity had to tell her twin what had happened before the balance was tipped permanently. They tried to gift another child that would embrace their bloodline, but no other woman was strong enough to carry them. Eventually, they went back to Mary and gave her Sammy-boy.”

“Wait... the first one, or the second?”

“The second. Think of them like a reflection in a mirror... or origami! What you do on one side of the balance, you have to do on the other. You are the child of the day, so Sammy-boy is the child of the night. Mary Winchester was nothing more than a surrogate, though that wasn't the plan. When the deity of the day learned of what happened with you, she was overjoyed as much as she was wracked with worry.”

“After Sam was born and the yellow-eyed demon paid him a visit, the deities knew they needed to keep an eye on you two,” Xia explains softly. “I know you don't think they did, but you have to understand... unlike God, their hands are tied. In the beginning, they made a pact. They would never intervene unless they _both_ agreed on doing so. As it turns out, their methods of raising children are _very_ different. Therefore they could only project choices into others with the power to help you.”

Dean says nothing, refuses to look at the two sitting beside him. It's obvious he's still boiling. Those green eyes are glowing with his ire, bright within the darkness of the night. In most cases, the hunters would be wary around a creature with eyes such as these. The twins, however, are daring and press the boundaries of Dean's comfort.

Ming Yue wraps an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close to her side with a sigh. The hand that was on his shoulder is now in his short hair, soothingly stroking the locks as she presses his head onto her slender shoulder. He can smell sandalwood and lavender incense on her. The action makes Dean feel little again, like a child being comforted by his mother. Deep down, he always felt bad he could never give this to Sam while he was growing up. After their mother's death, John closed himself up and rarely showed affection toward the two... well... when he was home, anyway. It fell to Dean to do that and he certainly wasn't very good at it. Sometimes he wonders if that wasn't why Sam was so hellbent on talking about their feelings.

“Dean, you're a very strong boy,” Xia says softly as she kneels on the ground before him. “You come from a highly powerful bloodline, celestial and ancient. In all the years since the beginning of humans, no one has _ever_ had the capacity to wield such a bloodline save for the originals. And do you know why you have that power? Why you unlocked that bloodline so late in life?”

“No, I don't. But I'll bet you're gonna tell me.”

“Don't get cocky, brat,” Ming Yue remarks with a light whap to his head. “You walked all plains; Earth, Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. You've learned your place in the world, that it isn't your job to save everyone and that there's a balance that needs to be kept when it comes to life and death, and most importantly... you don't want it.”

“A power such as that of the balance is hard to resist,” Xia continues. “You have the power over life and death, the power to write the fates of all those around you. Human hearts are filled with greed and hate, they would use such a power for self gain and destroy the fragile balance. You and your brother, however, you are the perfect carriers of such a bloodline. You wield the power of life, creation, and healing. Your personality, however, understands that everyone has an end and a beginning. That fate shouldn't be written down, but chosen... as it was meant to be.”

“Your brother has the power of death, destruction, and injury,” Ming Yue smiles. “His personality is too kind to harm, too positive to destroy... and he always has the hope that everything will get better. He would never use the power over death in such a wistful manner. Every enemy he's ever made, he's tried to turn into a friend. You two, together, will keep the balance far better than any other. Therefore, the bloodline to do so is now yours. But keep in mind, it should never be applied unless the situation is dire. There are consequences to even _this_ power, much more so than any other. You should be a hunter and man of letters first, but you will always be the children of day and night.”

The hunter sighs and stands up, taking a couple steps forward as he mulls over this information. Finally, he opens his mouth and turns back to the women that have popped in for a visit. They aren't there, vanished without a trace. The only thing answering his unasked questions are the trees rattling in the wind. He cries out into the pitch of the night, hands tugging at his hair in his frustration.

It's almost instantaneous, the presence he suddenly feels, and he's both relieved and irritated at it. Castiel felt his anger peak, felt the underlying anger at a direct target, and answered in kind. He's standing off to the side of the path behind Dean, unwilling to approach should he not be needed. At the sight of Dean facing the heavens, both hands gripping his hair, he steps closer... though only just. No one is with the hunter, a good sign in his opinion, yet there's the unmistakable feeling of a presence lingering in the area.

“Dean? Are you okay?” he asks quietly. “I can leave if you prefer to be alone... I just wanted to check on you.”

“No, I... I'm fine, but you don't have to leave,” he assures. “I don't want you to leave.”

“Very well.”

Dean returns to the bench, gesturing for the angel to join him. Once Castiel is seated at his side, the hunter gets as close as possible without having to deem it snuggling. An arm carefully drapes over his shoulders, comforting and safe. As they sit within the dim light of the moon, waiting for the first signs of sunrise, Dean tells Castiel everything that happened... everything that was said. Once he gets it all out, the hunter is feeling so much better. He lays his head on Castiel's shoulder and falls asleep, completely oblivious to the shock and worry left upon the angel's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready, my wonderful readers, as things get freaking crazy in the next chapters! XD


	18. A Family of Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the truth now out, the Winchesters are forced to talk through it. Only... Gabriel doesn't think Sam can handle the truth concerning his bloodline. Dean refuses to hide anything from Sam this time, only because the younger Winchester is the brains between them. And the trickster's opinion lands him in the doghouse. After a long debate, they convince Dean to call on the twins to help train them in this bloodline. The only thing they offer is chaos and news on Kushiel, who's slowly setting up plans to free Lucifer. Frustrations are high and it's making the group more volatile... which means Gabriel and Dean are at each other's throats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my wonderful readers XD You're all awesome! I love the comments and I'm happy for the Kudos, thank you so much =D I hope you're all eager to learn what happens next! As promised, this chapter is a bit crazy... but nothing compared to I'm gonna throw at you next XD

When Dean wakes the next morning, he finds himself in his bed at the hotel. He doesn't remember much from the night before, yet his remembers falling asleep next to Castiel. Unfortunately, his angel isn't beside him now. The room is empty and the sunlight is reaching it's tendrils through the cracks in the blinds. The hunter yawns and stretches, green eyes searching for any sign of his mate. He doesn't have to wait long, as Castiel wanders back into the room from the living area.

Something about the way he holds himself seems off to Dean. His head is slightly hung, eyes directed to the floor, and he's so preoccupied that he fails to notice the hunter sitting up in bed watching him. The dark haired hunter frowns, sliding from beneath the blankets and moving to meet Castiel before he can start pacing. He welcomes him with open arms, which the angel steps into without thinking. The minute he feels Dean's arm around his waist and his head upon his shoulder, Castiel starts from his thoughts and returns the embrace.

“Dean,” he says in surprise. “You're awake.”

“Yeah, I was awake before you walked in,” the hunter smirks. “A little preoccupied, are we?”

“I was just thinking about our conversation last night,” Castiel admits. “The situation you and your brother have been thrust into is far more grave than we first assumed. The balance has always been split in two, but now it's been halved yet again. Is it truly a wise decision for the original balance to nurture the two of you? I would have assumed they would have immediately destroyed you once they learned of your bloodline.”

“Gee... thanks.”

“I didn't mean they _should_ have. I'm quite elated they didn't, yet... that doesn't change the fact that the greatest danger to the balance of this world... is you and your brother. Whereas I see you as a blessing, not all creatures will feel that way. You and Sam have always been on the top of every creatures' most wanted list... but now you'll _be_ the list. They'll want nothing more than to cage and control you both. I know for certain the angels would love nothing more than to control the greatest light in all the universe.”

Dean groans and leans harder against Castiel, almost dropping his entire weight upon the other. The angel doesn't even move, holding Dean up as if he were as light as a feather. So many questions flow through his head it's beginning to ache, the angel wishing with every breath he can figure out the answers he seeks soon. So much just doesn't make sense at the moment.

Dean pushes the brunette angel out into the living area, eager to locate his brother and Gabriel. Sam is napping on the couch, a glance to the clock telling the older Winchester it's around noon. The shorter angel is standing by the window, gazing out upon the world past the smooth glass quietly. He's never seen him so serious, so thoughtful, and the sight is unnerving. Carefully, Dean moves over to wake his brother. Before he can reach out to shake him awake, Gabriel turns to face him. The look sent his way is intense and freezes him in his tracks.

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “We have to talk.”

“Oh, come on,” Dean scoffs. “No need to be so damn dramatic. If you want to talk, we can talk... with Sam. I'm not hiding shit from him, especially about this damn bloodline.”

“I understand that you want to tell him everything, Dean, but... sometimes that's not a very good idea. His powers were activated years ago. All those visions... that was that bloodline leaking through the barrier. He didn't take that power well the first time through, what makes you think he'll do better this time?”

“He's learned his lesson!” Dean growls out in defense of his brother. “He's not an idiot, he learns from his mistakes! I don't know if you've been paying attention, but I can't do this without him! I might be strong enough to handle all this news being thrown atop me, but I can't _think_ through it... Sam doesn't all the brain work, not me!”

The look the trickster gives him clearly states 'well duh', an expression the hunter is sorely tempted to beat off him. His fists clench at his sides, teeth gritting as his jaw tenses, and Castiel just knows he's about to lash out. Carefully, he pulls the hunter away from Gabriel. Though the trickster has fallen into a truce with Dean, one hit could bring back the overwhelming desire to torment the older hunter.

Through their arguments and glaring, neither of them notice when Sam stirs. His blue eyes gaze between them, the younger hunter sighing and shaking his head in exasperation. Castiel is slowly pulling Dean away from Gabriel, the trickster grinning in a challenging manner he knows the hunter can't resist. Before his brother can lunge at the shorter angel, Sam grabs his arm and yanks him hard. The green-eyed male loses his balance, crashing to the couch onto his younger brother's lap.

“What the hell, Sammy!” Dean gripes.

“I've heard the saying 'competition is healthy', but if you two start going at it again I'm leaving you _both_!” he mutters. “I've had _enough_ of you two fighting, I'm not picking sides between you! It's hardly fair to make me!”

“I didn't _ask_ you to!” Dean gasps affronted. “But if you were to, I know you'd pick my side. I have more faith in your decision making process than your so-called mate. At least _I_ trust you with the immense power you've been given.”

“... What is he talking about, Gabriel?”

The tone is flat, the gaze sent the trickster's way as cold as the taller Winchester is capable of. For a moment, Dean is proud of the fact he's turned that icy glare onto the trickster. Gabriel is quiet for a moment, a sheepish smile on his face as he rubs the back of his neck nervously. There's static from the television, the nature channel having gone out in the trickster's troubled state. Sam pulls his legs from beneath Dean, swinging them over the side of the couch to sit instead of lay.

He's awake now, so there's no whispering behind his back. Dean sends Gabriel a cocky grin, arms crossed over his chest. The television flickers again, finally turning off at a look from Castiel. The noise is irritating, especially with this quickly building tension throughout the room. It takes a long moment of silent stewing, yet soon everyone is beginning to calm. The younger angel takes a seat in an armchair, his position perfect for observing and intervening if necessary. Those blue orbs flit between all three males, alert and ready to move at the slightest indication of ill intent.

Gabriel has begun to pace, golden eyes glancing at Sam every so often. He didn't want to discuss all this in front of the taller male, yet thanks to Dean he'll have to. There's no doubt he'll be doing something to get back at the older hunter later on. Right now, however, there's problems to discuss.

“You and Dean are the offspring of the balance of the world,” he sighs. “You each have half the balance resting on your shoulders, which can only mean one of two things. Either the original balance has grown tired of the world and is passing on their mantels to you two... or they plan on using the both of you as pawns to work through.”

“Perfect,” Sam sighs. “And you didn't want to tell me this... why?”

“He said your powers were activated back with the yellow-eyed demon,” Dean answers. “That the demon blood made them leak through the barrier holding back our bloodlines. He was afraid you'd take all this just as badly as you did then.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Gabriel,” the taller Winchester glares. “I'm glad to know you think so highly of my learning process!”

The older angel hangs his head, guilt written all over his face. It's true he was worried about Sam, but mostly because his powers involve death and destruction. He didn't want the younger hunter lamenting about his luck, it just doesn't seem fair. There's no hiding it from the other forever, but at least it could've been cushioned for a long while before the landing finally came.

Dean doesn't seem worried about it, explaining everything to Sam about his encounter last night. Apparently, Gabriel has a lot to learn about his lover. Dean was correct, the younger hunter takes everything much better than the trickster assumed he would. The years of hardship have really set Sam's head on straight. He doesn't expect to be able to save everyone, though that won't stop him from trying, and the realization he's now counted among the Fallen doesn't seem to faze him. Perhaps it's from the time between now and when Gabriel mentioned the mark before, but it would seem he's had enough time to come to terms with everything.

“Okay, so... what? What the hell comes next?” he asks. “Obviously, we still have to watch out for Kushiel. I'm sure she hasn't given up on capturing you. But what else? Do we have to... like... _learn_ something? How to control all this shit? Are we supposed to be looking for a teacher? How do we even know what we're _capable_ of?”

“Yeah... you would think the double-mint twins would've covered that part,” Dean sighs. “Apparently, our next move is ours to make. To tell you the truth, I'm in _no_ hurry to explore a power that destroys Amazons from the inside out.”

“Granted, that does seem like something you'd want to steer clear of,” the taller sighs. “But think about the 'what ifs'. What if Kushiel _does_ manage to catch you? How would you escape? How would you defend yourself? What happens if you're tied up by more demons? If you have the ability to destroy them, why not use it?”

“They told me we were to be hunters and men of letters first,” the green-eyed male states firmly. “That power is only a last resort. And to tell you the truth, that's the most _ingenious_ advice I've ever gotten from a creature. I say bare the mark and forget any of this happened.”

There's a slight frown on Sam's features and Dean knows what it's about... he still thinks he can use this power to help people. Although last time it was more of a curse, the older brother can see helping people with it this time. Severe consequences or not, once they figure out how to handle this shit it would be easy. That's the problem. He doesn't want to be a creature, they _hunt_ creatures, he just wants to be human. He doesn't want there to be anything special about him.

Sam can read his growing conflict easily, sighing himself before setting a hand on his brother's shoulder. He doesn't have to say anything, he never does, they can communicate just fine without words. There's comfort in that touch, but also a large amount of tension and anxiety. The taller male remembers his mistakes from before, remembers the nightmares that served as visions... remembers seeing them come true when he thought nothing of them. The last thing he ever wanted was to face them again... yet here he is.

“Sam, I want you to know that we'll be here for you two,” Castiel remarks quietly. “We're all family now, we're all connected by blood or bond. As I would kill to keep Dean safe, would die for him, I would do the same for you... as would Gabriel for Dean. If you ask of us, we will do our best to grant what you request.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam sighs with a smile. “I appreciate it. I know I wasn't exactly smart about all this before, but I know now... that sort of power wasn't meant to help anyone. Dean's is. I understand that he's right, it's probably best not to bother with it. However... if there's _anything_ I know better than Dean, it's that even though you ignore something it doesn't make it go away. We need to learn how to control this bloodline of ours... or it just might start affecting the world around us without our say-so.”

“... He's right,” Gabriel murmurs. “This isn't the type of bloodline to ignore. You two aren't just the _offspring_ of the balance... you're _part_ of the balance now. The power of nature rolls through your veins, radiates off your very skin, and it's not something that can be contained lightly. Dean, you need to talk to those women again. See if you can call on them, ask if they know anyone that can teach the two of you.”

“Fine, but Sam should meet them as well. I hate dealing with them on my own, they have _no_ respect for my personal space... they're as bad as Cas.”

Castiel sends Dean an affronted look at the comment, Sam snickering at his expression. Before Castiel's time as a human, he had serious problems staying out of Dean's personal bubble. He was always appearing only inches from him, watching him in his sleep, invading his dreams... personal space was foreign to him and probably still is on some levels. He just has a reason to ignore it now.

The brothers are quiet for a long time, mulling over their choices. It doesn't last long, however, as Dean closes his eyes and tries to call out to the women that have been plaguing him. The television flickers back to life, the static breaks through a speech on tigers every so often. It gets longer with each moment, until finally that's all they hear. All eyes are turned to the set with confusion, the silence on the black screen bursting to life with a black and white samurai movie. There are two women, twins, facing one another. One is in white and one is in black, both with blades drawn. They charge, metal clashing upon metal as they dance around one another. Finally, they both still and turn their head to the screen. As they walk toward it, they get larger. Once they reach the camera, a hand reaches out of the glass... and the Winchesters are diving behind the couch.

“Are you kidding me!” Dean screams. “The fucking 'Ring'?”

“We can make the door if we move now,” Sam gasps out. “I think we left the weapons in the trunk, we have to get to them fast.”

“... You guys are hilarious,” Gabriel chuckles as he leans over the back of the couch.

Castiel sighs, as though being within their spastic presence is a suffering he wishes he didn't have to undertake, and turns his gaze toward the television set. The blue of his irises are shimmering, one step from down right glowing in threat. The sight is a warning, nothing more. Gabriel, though he stays leaning on the back of the couch, turns his face to watch the women pull themselves from the set. His grin is mischievous, filled with a trickster's impish and sadistic humor.

There's a manic cackling flowing from that direction that neither hunter wants to face, and then a melodic sound of wind chimes joins it. The two look at one another, realizing only too late that they're practically wrapped in each other's arms. If there's on thing Dean knows they've both feared, it's living long enough to become a part of their least favorite horror flicks. It's never been something they've striven to do and, though they went through something similar with that one shape-shifter, they've done well steering clear... until now. After a moment, Dean realizes the laughter is the women in white and black poking fun at their reaction.

“Well... damn,” he mutters. “If we didn't inherit their sense of humor, I have no clue where the hell we got it.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam wonders a bit clueless.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean sighs. “Let's say hi to our mommies.”

With confusion clearly written on his face, the tall man follows Dean's lead. They both stand upright, gazing upon the two women. They're laughing so hard they're crying, both wrapped up in a hug to keep the other upright. He glances beside him to see Sam's large blue puppy eyes filled with shock, his mouth slightly open as he openly stares at the women.

They look no different from the last time Dean saw them, still dressed in the same outfit, but this time their hair is warped in braids and pinned up in two buns atop their heads. He wonders if all female creatures are like human ones, always looking for something new to change their looks. If so, he wonders what the female angels do to change their looks. He's seen Castiel for years and the man has never changed a single thing about his vessel.  Well, except for his clothes when he was human.  But as an angel, he never changes.

“Oh my god!” the woman in black laughs. “You should've seen your _faces_!”

“I know it wasn't very nice, but... that was so funny!” the woman in white snickers. “I can see the appeal Gabriel answers to when pranking you both!”

“... Loki,” Ming Yue frowns, laughter dropped at the name.

“His name is _Gabriel_.”

“No, his name is _Loki_.”

“He was _mine_ first!” Xia growls out.

“Well he's _mine_ now!” Ming Yue snaps.

Their hands immediately go to the hilts of their katana, bodies stepping away to give them room. Castiel hurries from his chair, grabbing both brothers by the back of their collars and pulling them out of harm's way. Gabriel is between the quarreling women in seconds, arms stretched out to keep them from attacking. It's been a long time since last he saw them, yet the sudden reappearance has smoothed out those blurry memories.

He was a young angel when they took him under their wing. Heaven was crowded with cherubs and he was more curious than the other archangels, always off playing with the young cherubs and watching the humans evolve below. When the women of the balance took note of his uncharacteristic curiosity, they began to indulge it... just as he did with Castiel when he adopted the other. Xia supported his angelic side, yet Ming Yue strengthened his trickster side. She could never touch anything without leaving her mark, started calling him Loki. When he decided to take on a double life, it just seemed right to go that way.

“I like being both Gabriel _and_ Loki,” he comments. “There's no need to fight over it, okay? Right now we have more pressing matters to deal with than what you're going to call me. Just... call me whatever you'd like, okay?”

“Perfect,” Dean grins widely.

“Except you!” the trickster snaps. “ _You_ can call me Gabriel.”

Dean's smile falls, a look of disappointment flashing along his features. It's feigned, they can all tell that, but it gets the desired smirk from Sam and that's all he cares about. He and Sam move around to take back their seats on the couch, the shorter hunter tugging Castiel along behind him. Xia and Ming Yue abandon their earlier argument, immediately opening their arms for the two Winchesters. Sam isn't sure how to respond to it, yet Dean seems to realize there's no escape. He steps forward with an air of defeat, his body tense as Xia yanks him forward by his cheeks.

The room is filled with baby talk and the sound of wet kisses, Dean groaning as he's smothered in the woman's ample bosom. Normally he'd kill to have his face buried in a woman's breasts, but the whole experience is just ruined now that he's only got eyes for Castiel... and because he's beginning to think of this creature as his mother. Ming Yue is just as quick to pull Sam into her, yet she's a little rougher about it. Her grip isn't on his cheeks, but on his long hair, and one of her legs hook around Sam's to force him onto his knees. There's just no way she's going to allow the young man to tower over her like he does everyone else, he'll learn that quickly enough.

“So... You're supposed to be my mother?” Sam wonders warily.

“I'm not _supposed_ to be, whelp, I _am_ ,” Ming Yue remarks. “Count yourself lucky, you could've had my pansy ass sister coddling you.”

“I don't coddle, I love!”

“Excuse me for shattering your delusions.”

Dean and Sam search for their angels, praying they can stop all this craziness before it affects their sanity. Gabriel isn't about to be any help, especially after Dean's eagerness to dub him with a less than favorable nickname. Large pleaded green eyes turn to Castiel, the quiet angel slowly breaking down at the gaze. He can never deny Dean anything. With a labored sigh, he stands and steps closer to the woman in white. There are no words spoken, simply a simpering look of longing and sadness directed at the deity of light.

At first, the hunter doubts it'll work. The expression is so unlike Castiel it's almost obvious he's faking it. The woman is still for a long while, staring at that look he must've learned from Sam at one point. Although, if he had he must've tweaked it a bit... it's far more effective in Dean's opinion. After that short moment of silence, Xia reacts to the look. She releases an 'awww' and let's Dean go, turning him around and pushing him toward Castiel hurriedly. He's transferred from the overwhelming heat of her arms, filled with the ancient power she possesses radiating from her pores, and into Castiel's familiar grip. Once the green-eyed hunter is safely within the loving embrace of his mate, Xia pries Sam away from Ming Yue to return him to Gabriel. The trickster looks almost disappointed.

“I'm _so_ sorry my presence brings you grief,” Sam mutters bitterly. “I'll be sure you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“... Wait, what?” Gabriel utters in disbelief. “I didn't say...”

“Your face says it all,” the taller male waves off. “Be sure to have yourself a pillow and blanket by the time I go to bed, or you'll go to the couch without.”

“Nice, Sammy,” Dean snickers. “Pulling the bitch-face on your bitch, how fitting.”

“Jerk,” Sam scoffs out.

“Bitch.”

Gabriel has a bemused look on his face, one only matched by that of Ming Yue. It's off-setting and has the chill of ice water trickling down the older hunter's spine. His angel notes the change, as Dean's hands fist reflexively in his shirt, and holds him closer. He's almost afraid to ask, the question within his emerald orbs if not on the tip of his tongue... but the trickster needs no words to push Dean's multiple temper-triggers.

“Shouldn't you guys exchange nicknames now? I mean, it doesn't really make sense to call my domineering mate a bitch... when you're so _clearly_ Castiel's,” he says with a Cheshire grin.

“Son of a...”

Dean lunges for Gabriel, hands ready to strangle the archangel, yet Castiel is quick to tighten his grip. He sighs another long suffering sigh, shaking his head before forcing Dean to sit on the couch. As was pointed out before, there are more pressing matters to attend to. His Grace washes over Dean, putting him on a slight high to calm him down, and the hunter drops limply on the cushions. Sam joins them, blue eyes pinned to the women that have decided to drop in on them.

They're just as silent as Castiel, though it's clear Ming Yue wants to let the mocking and teasing words pour from her lips like subtle poison. He doesn't mind her brand of fun, it's far too much like Gabriel's to not be used to it, yet he can also tell that it unnerves the Winchesters. It takes a long while for anyone to say anything, the room filled with an awkward tension as everyone attempts to gauge those they watch. Finally, the impatient darkness breaks the silence.

“What the hell do you want?” Ming Yue demands. “We only came because you called us, so spit it out, damn it!”

“Now, sister, we came for our children,” Xia reprimands softly. “We shouldn't have to be called in order to visit them, they're our offspring. Just be happy we have reason to spend time with them.”

“... Um... we wanted to ask you about this bloodline you decided to pass on to us,” Sam remarks. “We were wondering if you knew anyone that could teach us how to control this power you've given us. I know it's not something for us to use, Dean's already mentioned that, but... even if we don't make use of it, we need to know how to control it. Ignoring it won't make it lie dormant once more.”

There's a lull of quiet, the women mulling over their next move. It's a valid point and they never thought to indulge such a request. One thing they've learned from watching over their children, is that they never ask for help... and they rarely need it. If they're not holding one another above the waters of danger, their angelic mates are doing it for them.

Castiel allows Dean out of his induced trance slowly, watching carefully for any signs of lingering anger. There aren't any and the angel feels good enough to take his eyes off the green-eyed hunter. The minute he does, Dean throws the remote at Gabriel's head. It doesn't hurt the other, but he still makes a dramatic show of it. It's at that point, the women are drawn from their silent contemplation.

“Ha, ha, I conceived the smart one,” Ming Yue remarks childishly as she remarks on Sam's request.

“Well, I conceived the funny one,” Xia shoots back petulantly. “But Sam is correct, this power will release itself should it not be contained expertly. They need a teacher.”

“The best teaching method is 'sink or swim'! Together, they should be able to figure all this out,” the woman in black waves off. “After all, they're _our_ children.”

“They need to be _led_ , sister,” Xia argues. “Their talents need to be nurtured, not let to roam free! This is the balance of the _world_ we're talking about! What if, in their haste or inability to learn, they upset the balance? What would we do then?”

“Cast out the choice that would settle that imbalance, as we always do. Their current problem isn't how to control their vast power, it'll protect them well enough whether they like it or not, but how to deal with _Kushiel_. Her forces are getting stronger and she's been strategically setting up her plans of attack... she'll quell Castiel and Loki before letting loose Micheal and Lucifer. That's their most pressing problem at the moment.”

Dean sighs, a look of complete and utter defeat at this seemingly endless cycle flitting through his eyes. That damn hammer... it never ceases to drop when he least expects it. Which is saying something, considering he's _always_ expecting it. Sam is beside him, eyes large and mouth hanging open. It's shocking his younger brother still carries that ridiculous amount of hope after all the shit they've been through.

The news has rocked them all, even the unshakable Gabriel. With their shock infiltrating the room, the women take that opportunity to vanish with twin bouts of laughter. Dean decides their life is eternally screwed to be soaked in insanity and chaos, but... he'd probably never want it any other way, damn it.

“So... what the hell is Kushiel up to?” Dean murmurs more to himself.

“She's always been a far greater strategist than Lucifer,” Gabriel sighs. “Even Micheal wouldn't mess with her on her bad days. If she's got it out for Castiel, I've no doubt you're on her list. Though she can't kill you, she probably spent all this down time figuring out how to keep you imprisoned.”

“Perfect,” the older Winchester groans.

“Does anyone know of a weapon that can kill Kushiel?” Sam wonders. “I mean... she's a pretty powerful angel, right? And her army has to be huge! She'll be getting help from all sorts of creatures and demons. We can't take them all on with only two angels and power we have no clue how to use!”

Dean sits back and stares at the now blank television, worrying his bottom lip in thought. They've been down for a long while with no word of the angel on the move, she's learned to stay out of the lime light. Even if they manage to catch wind of her, they have no clue what her vessel looks like. She could be standing right beside him and he'd never know.

Castiel can see the worry on his face, brows dipping in a reflection of it. The thought of one of his own taking Dean from him sets his blood ablaze, his Grace throbbing within him in a need to destroy the threat. Kushiel may be strong, but if she has the gall to touch what's his... even their Father's wrath will pale in comparison to his own.

“I suggest we stay one more night,” the younger angel states. “We can head back to the bunker tomorrow morning.”

“Whoa, wait... the bunker? No way,” Dean argues. “I am _not_ holing up in the bat-cave like a kicked puppy! I'm a hunter, damn it! I don't hide from the shit that chases me, I take a stand and gank it! There will be _no_ hiding!”

Castiel shares a glance with Gabriel, yet gives in with a bow of his head. The group will stay another day, yet there's one problem with Castiel's plan... they have nothing to keep them busy. The lack of activity is quick to get on Dean's nerves, as he's _always_ active. They all sit down for lunch, provided by the trickster, yet there's no conversation. Each of them deals with boredom in a completely different way, so once they finish they all break to do so. Sam grabs his laptop to search around for information on their bloodline, taking up as much of the couch as possible. He leaves room for Castiel, who's turned on the nature channel again. Gabriel is tempted to go find some mischief to get into, settling for snapping up a DVD player and some porn. Dean... he can't think straight. Normally, he would clean his gun collection. That doesn't sound too appealing at the moment.

Gabriel is about to strangle him half an hour later, the hunter pacing the length of the living area in a continuous stream. His brow ticks, hands wringing the bottom of his tee shirt in an attempt to stay away from that neck. He's lost all interest in his porn, the steady tapping of Dean's feet distracting him easily. Sam doesn't seem to notice, too used to his brother's need to move by now, and even Castiel seems content to allow it. The trickster, however... it's beginning to echo inside his skull. Finally, he snaps his fingers and Dean finds himself dropping to the floor in ropes.

“What the hell, man!” Dean shouts.

“You're driving me crazy!” Gabriel snaps. “Must you always pace like that? A guy can only take so much of your constant movement before he snaps! Just lay down there and chill for five minutes!”

“Sam!”

“Gabriel, Dean needs to move or he's going to start babbling,” Sam remarks without looking up from his computer. “I prefer the tapping of his feet to the completely ridiculous shit that spills from his mouth, thanks.”

“No problem!” Gabriel grins with another snap of his fingers.

Before Dean can protest, a gag is wrapped around his mouth. It stifles any noises that try to escape, the hunter glaring at the floorboards heatedly. Castiel sighs and gets up to release his mate, sending his brother a glower that's far less serious than the hunter's. It's more exasperated than anything. Carefully, the blue eyed angel lifts Dean's bound body off the floor and carries him to the bedroom.

The hunter is lain on the bed, his angel gently untying the bonds. When his wrists are free, Dean tears the gag from around his mouth. His cheeks puff out in rage, though he doesn't make a move for the door. Gabriel will only tie him up again, so confrontation is pretty useless. He's safer staying in the room with Castiel. His angel lingers, always hovering and observing... waiting for a time he's needed. The hunter doesn't need him at the moment... but he wants him. He holds a hand out to the man with blue eyes, drawing him closer with minimal force.

“This is too much, Cas,” he sighs out. “I don't think I can take all this. I think... I think I'm finally beginning to break.”

“You're stronger than you realize, Dean,” the angel whispers as he sits down. “And you don't have to deal with this alone, I'll always be right here to help carry the burden. That could be one of the reasons you were forced into our mating.”

“Don't say that, we would've ended up this way anyhow.”

“You don't know that.”

“... I... hoped it,” Dean mutters. “But that's beside the point! I know you want to lock us away so no one can get to us, but that's just not how we deal with things. I'm sorry I can't run, I just... I'm used to standing my ground. I don't want to be safe, I want to be free.”

Castiel's eyes soften, eternal blue shining upon Dean in a loving manner, and he pulls Dean forward to kiss him. It's soft and slow, neither eager to hurry it or turn it feral. Dean's arms move to hang loosely around the angel's neck, his body slowly leaning toward the mattress. A soft moan slips from the hunter's mouth as his back hits the bed, Castiel humming in satisfaction. He's holding himself up over Dean, shifting his body to lie alongside the other. Their lips lock languidly, enjoying the moment of privacy. The sound of Gabriel chattering with Sam is distant, muffled behind the sliding glass door to their bedroom. It doesn't matter, they're far past caring at this point. Dean settles a foot on the bed, his leg bent at the knee and his thigh pressed against Castiel's.

Their make-out session is gaining in passion, fingers twined in soft hair and teeth clicking together in haste. Dean pulls away only long enough to pull off his shirt, his skin overheating at the administrations of his mate. Castiel smirks at his lovers anticipation, rewarding him by divesting himself of his own shirt and running his warm hands along Dean's abs. Those teasing fingers drift up to the hunter's chest, stopping to lavish those dusky nipples with attention.

“We shouldn't do this with our brothers in the next room,” the angel remarks.

“They'll leave,” Dean waves off.

Castiel chuckles, allowing the other to undo his jeans. Dean scoots up the bed, sliding out of his pants while he goes, and sends his mate a come hither look. It's one that won't be denied and the angel responds in kind. He pulls his jeans off, tossing them to the floor with Dean's. They're only clad in their boxers now, their skin touching and sending jolts of electricity along their nerves. The hunter pushes Castiel, flipping their positions so he can straddle the man's thighs.

Just as they're about to strip off the last piece of clothing separating them, Dean catches the sound of footsteps. He ignores them, pulling Castiel up to sit and pressing their torsos together tightly. Arms wind around his back, one snug against his lower back and the other across his shoulders. Fingers are curling within brown locks, tight and rough as they get into the mood. Dean's hips roll against Castiel's, the two swallowing one another's moans as they attempt being quiet.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Sam shouts, his tennis shoe slamming against the bedroom door. “Have a little _decency_! Just because you're starved for sex doesn't mean I want to be scarred for life in the process of your intimacy!”

“Blow me!” Dean shouts back.

“Dude, have a heart! I'm your little brother for the love of all things holy, I would _never_ do you like this!”

Dean rolls his eyes with a groan, not planning on stopping at all. The look in Castiel's eyes, however, tells him otherwise. It's mercy and for once the hunter wishes his angel weren't so benevolent. He wants to spare Sam, so he won't give in to Dean. With a muttered curse, the green-eyed male moves away. He'll have to be happy with some cuddling for now... but he _will_ get laid tonight. Whether Sammy wants to hear or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it XD Remember, this is just the beginning. I have a couple curveballs I'm holding in reserve ;p Can't wait to throw them XD


	19. Therapy, Comfort and Status

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Kushiel threatening to capture Dean, Gabriel and Cas decide it's best to lock the brothers up until they think of something better. They have to wait until the two fall asleep, and then take them back to the bunker. The trickster makes the place inescapable. Dean is on the warpath until he locates a room to keep him occupied. Later a flashback in the showers has him demanding pleasure from his mate, which Cas wastes no time in giving... mainly to remind Dean who the alpha between them is. It's a lesson Dean won't soon forget.

It's a long day, but an even longer night. Dean takes forever to fall asleep, griping about their inability to screw each other with their current company. He tried so many times to entice Castiel, yet every time they got close... the familiar cock-block from Sam shows up. He goes to bed needy and irritated. Castiel lies beside him, waiting impatiently for the hunter to doze off. The night is so silent, not even the muffled sounds of car horns drilling through it, and he watches the glowing red numbers of the digital clock. Dean shifts beside him, an arm hooking around his waist as the hunter sighs. He's not yet asleep, though he's very close to it.

The room has a nice coolness to it, the curtains billowing out as the breeze blows past the open window. They don't normally open them, but the AC broke and the chill was needed. Especially after their vigorous make-out sessions. Dean complained of being too warm, yet insisted on snuggling with his angel. The compromise was Castiel opening the window near the bed, as he knew he wouldn't stop hearing the complaining until he did. All he wants is for the hunter to fall asleep.

“Cas?” Dean murmurs, half under the spell of slumber.

“Yes, Dean?”

“... You'll never leave me, right?”

“Never.”

“... I'll always belong to you, won't I? And no one else?”

“You will always be mine, Dean... forever. No one will ever take your place, I promise.”

There's a soft hum from the green-eyed man, his cheek nuzzling against Castiel's bare chest, and then he's still. His breath is hot against the angel's skin, sending pleasant shivers along his spine. He waits a while longer, a bit for his selfishness and mostly to make sure Dean won't wake, and then slips from bed. On silent footfalls, he leaves the bedroom and finds Gabriel in the living area.

The older angel is stretched out on the couch, Sam making good on his threat from earlier. Castiel knows he didn't mean much to it, yet the hunter is aware that if he doles out empty threats to the trickster he's likely to keep pressing until the other snaps. Therefore, the golden-eyed male was kicked to the couch. A mixture of a lesson taught and sadistic fun from his mate. Sometimes the younger angel wonders if Dean's humor hasn't rubbed off on Sam somewhere down the way. If it has, the archangel definitely deserves every prank pulled on him.

“Dean is asleep,” he remarks.

“Oh good, now I can pour shaving cream on his face!” Gabriel grins.

“Brother, you know that's not why I told you,” Castiel sighs in exasperation. “I need to speak with you about his decision to stay in sight of Kushiel. I know he thinks he's in no danger, or at least feels he can handle all this, but... he's wrong. He doesn't know Kushiel like we do, there's no way he'll last against her.”

“So... you're suggesting we lock them both in a dungeon? I like the sound of that... my own personal sex slave locked in a dungeon for my use,” the archangel muses aloud. “Hmm... I could _definitely_ get used to that!”

Castiel shakes his head, yet he knows what the other is getting at. Short of doing just that, there's no way the Winchesters will stay put. They're headstrong and defiant, once qualities the angel found endearing and now the one thing standing between them and safety. Gabriel is watching him carefully, a thoughtful expression on his features. It's a look the younger angel grew used to, one he also learned to fear at times of mischief.

The archangel is thinking about a way to keep the two safe. They need sigils to protect them from being discovered by the fallen angel, something easily taken care of. Unfortunately, there's always a way to find them. Should she have Reapers on her side, they can track the brothers without difficulty. This brings up the shocking fact of their vulnerability once more. Finally, he nods and gets to his feet. With sure steps, he walks around the couch and faces his taller brother.

“I have an idea,” he announces. “The last place Kushiel would think to look for the boys is in a trickster's den. I propose we find a deserted house and I turn it into my own personal playground. The boys will think they're still on hunts and we can keep them perfectly safe without them knowing. What do you say?”

“If we were to do that, how would we stop Kushiel without drawing suspicion from our mates?”

“Don't underestimate me, brother,” Gabriel grins widely. “I _am_ a trickster after all.”

“And Kushiel knows all your tricks. Let's not forget that. Though she won't be able to find the boys, if something were to happen to you to stop your illusions around them... what would happen then? They would venture out into the world. The safest place for them is the bunker.”

“Okay, plan B. Let's drag them back to the bunker while they're sleeping,” the archangel shrugs. “I'll take all the doors away and they'll be sealed in the damn place until we say differently. Sound good to you?”

Castiel thinks that over for a second, and then nods in agreement. There will be horrible consequences, but this plan is much better than the last. To deceive the Winchesters in such a manner just seems downright deplorable. The two go their separate ways, heading back to their respective mate. Castiel carefully gathers Dean into his arms, making certain not to jostle him. The last thing he wants is to wake the other up. Without a single word, they vanish and reappear in the bunker.

They're in Dean's room, so the angel sets him in bed and draws the blankets over him. He can hear Gabriel down the hallway, most likely tucking in Sam. Once the slightly taller male is situated, Castiel exits the room and joins his brother in the hall. They discuss their next move, the trickster leaving to gather the impala and their bags. He knows the car will end up in the garage, the doors already missing from their usual spots of exit and entrance. There will be no leaving this place unless Gabriel allows it. He breathes easy at that information, relaxing beneath the heavy weight that no longer resides on his shoulders.

Dean rouses the next morning, stretching as he breathes deep against his pillow. It smells like Irish Spring soap and Axe shampoo... something that doesn't belong on a hotel pillow. He's only ever managed to rub that scent off on the pillow in his bedroom at home. His green eyes grow large and he pushes himself up to gaze at his surroundings. Anger boils up within him as he drags himself from the bed, storming out of the room he knows all too well. Sam is stumbling from his room in confusion when his foot hits the hall, blue eyes frantic for answers and still half asleep.

The two head toward the large room with the map, the one they first enter with the spiral staircase. The second they step into it, Dean's emerald orbs are searching for the exit... which is no longer there. Voices are chatting in the library, drawing his ire like a moth to a flame. Gabriel and Castiel are sitting at the table there, one with a book in front of him and the other with a laptop. Sam and Dean cross their arms over their chests, their glares so icy they could chill boiling water.

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you two!” Dean shouts. “Did you not hear me when I said there would be _no_ hiding!”

“I'm sorry, I must've had something in my eye when you said that,” Gabriel smirks teasingly. “I didn't hear a word you said.”

“That... what the... that doesn't even make any fucking _sense_!” the exasperated hunter shouts as he waves his arms expressively. “Did you damage your brain somewhere during your extremely long existence, or something?”

“... Probably,” the trickster remarks with a thoughtful gaze.

Dean growls in frustration, throwing his hands heavenward in a sign of defeat. That man will never make any sense, though it would seem he isn't even trying to. The highlight of the trickster's day is pushing Dean to the point he snaps, so it's always a treat when the other gives up. There's a chuckle from the golden-eyed angel, yet he wilts at the glower Sam holds locked on him. He's no fool, he knows this is Gabriel's doing. Unlike Dean, however, the younger Winchester is very good at understanding both sides of a conflict.

He pulls out a chair and sits down, those blue eyes never leaving his mate. Dean doesn't feel that relaxed yet, pacing in vexation behind his brother's chair. The bunker is more quiet than it's been in a long time, not helping one bit to clear his head. He would expect this from Gabriel, but Castiel? No... not his Cas.

“What the hell's _your_ excuse, Cas?” he directs. “You told me you understood why I didn't want to hide. I thought we were on the same page, man!”

“I do understand, Dean,” he offers. “However, you refuse to understand where _I'm_ coming from. If I were to lose you, I couldn't live with myself! You're my _world_ , Dean, you have been since I raised you from Hell. Why can't you see my point of view? Why can't you just let me have this? Stop fighting me!”

“I'm not fighting you! I just... I can't _stay_ here! It hurts you don't trust in my abilities, Cas, it really does...”

“Don't say that.”

The tone is soft and filled with hurt, obviously hitting a nerve in the angel. He's done nothing but assist his mate in every ridiculous plan he's ever come up with. He's never once doubted the hunter, always followed him blindly and protected him with his life. It isn't fair for Dean to say such things. The minute it leaves his mouth, the hunter regrets it. He pulls out a chair and sits at the long dark wood table, folding his arms before him. Green eyes bore into the table, brows wrinkled as he tries to find a way to reword his comment.

“I didn't mean that,” he offers awkwardly. “I just... I don't need protecting.”

“You don't know Kushiel like we do,” Gabriel speaks up. “You need protecting, so shut up and take it like a good boy. You're skills at hunting are unparalleled, but Kushiel isn't a fool. She can't be killed by an angel blade like other angels, she's protected by ancient magic. It's going to take a seriously powerful relic to take her out... one I'm not sure I can get my hands on.”

“Why?”

“Well... I left it in the care of my daughter and she won't be happy that I've found a life-mate. Besides, it's been a while since I last spoke with her. I have no clue how she'll take seeing me again... I'm not exactly the epitome of godly parenting. Castiel has always been my greatest achievement, and she was jealous of that.”

“... You have a daughter?” Sam frowns. “Why haven't I heard of this before?”

“You know your mythology, you should've,” he waves off. “Now go keep yourselves busy, you won't be changing my mind about the doors.”

He turns his eyes back to the laptop, the conversation ended in that simple action. Dean searches for Castiel's eyes, yet the angel keeps them downcast and hidden. He's not about to be broken by his mate, not this time. Seeing the resolution in the angel's stature, the hunter growls in anger and stomps off.

They've done little exploring within the bunker, the largest amount of time spent doing so was when the wicked witch was let loose inside these very walls. Dean spends the day combing the place from top to bottom, finding rooms he never would've thought existed in a military bunker. He knew about the kitchen, the library, the garage, and the dungeon in the storage area. He didn't know about the in-ground pool, the garden area filled with plants and herbs, the laundry room, or the workshop split between alchemy and mechanics. He stands and stares, completely in his glory at the sight of the old hot rod in the midst of being restored. He looks heavenward and mouths a silent 'thank you' to God, rubbing his hands together and moving forward.

It's been hours and there hasn't been a single peep from Dean, the hunter lost in the massive area that is the bunker they call home. Sam is getting worried, yet Castiel assures him Dean is still within the bunker. He goes on the search, nearly pulling out his long hair at the inability to find his brother. He's just heading through the maze of halls near their rooms when he and Dean collide at the corner, the older male laughing as they both hit the floor. He's covered in sweat and grease, his shirt stained with oil and his jeans torn at one knee.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sam wonders.

“You're not gonna _believe_ what I found!” he states excitedly. “This place has a workshop! I've been working on a car all day, lost track of time. I'm starving!”

“Well, I checked the pantry while I was looking for you... we're running low on supplies. If we're nice enough, maybe Gabriel will let us go shopping in town.”

“Don't hold your breath,” the older male scoffs. “You need to get your bitch under control, dude. This is _so_ not cool.”

Sam blushes, yet nods anyway. He sends Dean off to get showered and changed, heading back to the huge kitchen to start something for lunch. The green-eyed hunter says nothing on his way to the showers, foregoing grabbing clothes from his room in case he should get grease on them. Instead, he shuts the door to the locker room and makes sure there's a towel on the rack by his chosen cubicle. He strips down as the waters heat up, the steam tantalizing after all the work he did today.

Stepping into the spray, a sigh of contentment escapes him. He's still pissed he's being held prisoner in his own home, however the rage has lessened in the face of such a beautiful car to work on. The cherry red convertible is almost as beautiful as his impala, but far from his type. He's thinking about putting a bow on it for Sammy's birthday. A soft smile stretches his lips, the hunter stretching his taut muscles beneath the hot water.

The door to the bathroom opens and shuts, Dean stilling at the sound. He knows no one here would harm him, yet he's also aware Gabriel has little to no concern for privacy. The last thing needed is the archangel sitting outside the reach of water as he chats with Dean, the thought forcing the memory of his gang rape at the hands of the Amazons to surface. Breathing becomes labored in his panic, the hunter trying his damnedest to quell the flurry of fear in his gut. The phantom scent of too much perfume fills the small cubicle, that of incense joining it, and his heart thuds in his throat. It's a feeble attempt to escape out his mouth. The dim lighting of the flickering candles they set up around him blurs his vision, the sound of sadistic laughter filling his ears. Instinctively, he makes himself small in the far corner of the shower. His body curls into the fetal position, hands covering his ears as he buries his face in his thighs.

“... Dean?” a familiar voice calls. “Dean, are you okay?”

Ignoring his dressed state, Castiel steps into the spray of water and kneels before Dean. The hunter flinches away from him, seeing only the women of before. It takes a moment to shake him from it, the torment in those emerald eyes breaking the angel's heart. He carefully talks the hunter down from his panic attack, whispering soothing things to him without touching.

At first, he's afraid Dean isn't hearing him. He can see the fractured soul through his mate's eyes, so broken and fearful. He just wants to cry as he withholds the urge to pull Dean into his arms, knowing the embrace will only further harm him. The hunter doesn't even seem to be seeing him, those green eyes distant and wide. He continues, his voice soothing and filled with love and adoration.

“Dean, please listen to me. You're not there anymore, you're with me. It's me, it's your mate,” Castiel says. “It's okay. It's going to be fine. Come here, come to me. I'll keep you safe, I'll protect you from all the evils in this world. Please, Dean, please. Starlight, you need to listen to me.”

“... Cas?” Dean murmurs.

“That's right, my light, I'm right here,” he remarks. “You're safe, you're with me. You know I'd never let anything harm you.”

“I was there again,” the hunter breathes out. “When will this go away, damn it! I just want it to go away! It wasn't that big a deal, it shouldn't _bother_ me this much! I'm a fucking _hunter_ , I've faced so much that should've killed me... Hell, I've been killed _numerous_ times! This should be a walk in the park!”

“It's never that easy, Dean,” the angel sighs. “You feel shame and guilt. You can't get over the fact they tied you down, drugged you, left you vulnerable and helpless. Hunters are _never_ vulnerable and helpless, it goes against everything you've been taught. You need to know that it's okay to feel that way, that I would never think less of you for it... I'll protect you. You don't need to deal with everything on your own anymore, you never did. You just need to let it all out, get it out in the open so it's not poisoning you. I swear it won't leave this room, it'll stay between the two of us and the others don't have to know.”

Dean's broken gaze locks with the impenetrable blue of Castiel's eyes, almost begging for some sort of relief. There's a bit of contemplation within emerald pools, the hunter thinking over the offer. He seems to take in the concrete of the showers, listening for sounds of any others moving about. When nothing but their breaths mingling together and their heartbeats thumping in their chests answers him, Dean takes refuge in Castiel's arms.

It takes no time at all for the hunter to break down, sobbing out emotions he thought under control and locked up. The words that spill from his mouth like vomit are jumbled and the angel has trouble understanding it all. He can make out some self-blame: 'If only I were stronger'. There's a touch of irritation: 'I couldn't fight them off'. He can interpret a small amount of guilt: 'I was right there when they took him'. And the ever present doubt: 'What did I do to deserve that'.

“It hurt so much, Cas,” he whimpers. “It hurt so much and I couldn't stop them. Why would they do that to me? And those poor girls! If it weren't for me they never would've died in such a horrible way! I'm a terrible person! Even my _children_ suffer unbearable lives with short ends!”

“Dean, stop that. There's nothing wrong with you,” Castiel assures. “Some things, though horrible, happen to strengthen a person. You're so strong when it comes to the heart, when it comes to hunting, but sometimes you lack willpower. If you give up, I may stay near your vessel... but I'll never touch your soul again. I don't want that. You're stronger than this, Starlight. Please don't leave me.”

“I'll never leave you, Cas, you're my angel,” the hunter murmurs with a blush. “And... now I'm done. This has been enough chick-flick moments and emotional turmoil to last me all fucking year, thanks. Don't expect confessions of love any time soon.”

“You don't have to tell me you love me, I can already feel your soul singing it,” Castiel smirks teasingly. “It sings beautifully, you know. Like a choir of angels.”

Dean gags at the thought, drawing a chuckle from Castiel. He knows how much his mate hates all these emotional situations, yet it was imperative he talk about what happened. Suppressing all those feelings has begun to trigger the flashbacks more often. If it had been during a hunt, Dean would've been killed by now. Castiel can't risk that anymore.

His clothes are soaked and clinging to his skin, the water still hot against him. Carefully, he pulls his soggy tee shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor of the shower. Dean watches intently, licking his lips at the sight of taut skin and muscular abs. The angel stands and unbuttons his jeans, kicking off his shoes before pulling down his pants and boxers. His mate sits on his knees, reaching to stroke Castiel's member to life. This time, the angel indulges his lover's need for intimacy as comfort.

A groan of lust spills from his mouth as Dean's lips wrap around his cock, the hunter humming his approval. Vibrations travel along Castiel's length, the angel fighting hard to keep from thrusting into that hot cavern. The hunter hollows his cheeks and sucks on his lover's sex, lightly dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin. That head of brown locks bobs along the angel's length, the sight arousing enough without the erotic sucking sounds. It's so close, so close to the end, yet this isn't how he wants it. With one hand tightly wound in Dean's short hair, his lover pulls him away. Getting the message, Dean stands and presses eager lips to Castiel's. Hands grapple for purchase on shoulders and waists, teeth nipping lips as their breath comes out in pants. The hunter pulls Castiel forward, stepping back toward the wall. He doesn't make it, his angel's feral side showing when he shoves the hunter. Dean's back collides with the wall, yet not as harshly as it could've. As wild as Castiel might get, he's well aware of how far he can go before harming his lover.

A soft moan of arousal escapes Dean's lips at the treatment, followed by a heated blush when he realizes where the sound originated from. He's always preferred aggressive partners, yet this is the first time he's been with an aggressive male. Apparently, his libido is more than satisfied. It's as though the attack by the demon never transpired, the fear that should've been there so weak in the face of his angel that it never took hold like that of the Amazons. He presses his body against Castiel, wanting and begging without words.

“You seem to enjoy being dominated,” Castiel hums in amusement.

“Only by you,” Dean replies breathlessly. “But if you tell anyone, I swear I'll never have sex with you again!”

“It'll be our little secret,” the angel whispers against his lover's ear.

The shiver that breaks out at the feel of hot breath on the shell of his ear is merciless, practically melting bone as he slides down the shower wall. Castiel chuckles at the reaction, a seductive sound angels shouldn't be capable of. The blue-eyed man thrusts his hips forward, grinding against Dean's arousal teasingly, and the hunter lets loose another groan of ecstasy.

Carefully, the angel turns Dean around and presses a hand between his shoulder blades. Silent commands the hunter is helpless against. He presses his hands flat on the cool tiles, leaning forward to present his ass to his blue-eyed lover, and he can hear the groan from Castiel. It's low and riddled with lust, his voice just a tad huskier than the norm. Dean can't help but sneak a peek over his shoulder, gasping at the sight of black ringed by a bit of blue. He licks his lips in anticipation.

One hand slides down the hunter's spine, slow and tender, as Castiel takes the time to worship the body that belongs to him. Fingers glide gently along ribs, hands pressing tight to hips, and finally his cheeks are spread. Dean is flush and needy, shivering in want as his hips thrust occasionally in the air. When he moves a hand to touch himself, it's grasped by the angel behind him.

“No,” he states. “We'll have none of that.”

“Listen to you, all bossy and shit,” Dean scoffs. “Never thought you had it in you.”

He reaches down anyway, challenging Castiel's orders. The angel raises a brow at the blatant challenge, smirking a bit when twirls Dean around and pins his hands above his head. He knows the other won't listen, so he moves him toward the shelves for bathing supplies. It's sturdy, made of metal bars set up in strategic places within the wall, and he has no fear of it breaking. Dean's wrists are pressed to the top of it, which lies high enough to bind him so he's flat on his feet. With a mere glance, the hunter finds himself handcuffed to the bars.

The reaction is late, following a blink of astonishment. A slight frown touches Dean's lips, one brow raising in question. That unvoiced question isn't answered, the angel too busy lifting his lover's legs to wrap around his waist. Dean's weight pulls on the cuffs, yet not enough to harm, and Castiel is quick to press him closer to the wall for support.

“Cheater,” Dean mutters.

“I've heard it said all is fair in love and war,” Castiel chuckles. “With you, sometimes love feels like war. I'm always fighting to get your attention or to get you to listen to me. I figured that saying goes double for anyone dealing with you.”

“... Still a cheater.”

“Only because you aren't getting your way.”

The green-eyed man resists the urge to pout, wondering what the hell's gotten into him. Though he admittedly always lies down for sex, his eyes seem to roam both genders with equal interest, and he's more laid back than his brother would like... he's never submitted like this before. It must be because it's Castiel pressed close to him. It's the angel's sex prodding his entrance, stiff against his body. He moans at the thoughts running amok through his head.

Coolness catches him by surprise, his lust filled green orbs cracking open to look at Castiel. The angel's fingers are coated in something, a glance to the side telling him it's the lube he placed there in case he wanted a bit of release. The digit circles the pucker of his entrance, its movement unhurried and teasing. Castiel spreads the lube around the outside, gently pushing the very tip of his finger into Dean before pulling it out. He does this a few more times, mimicking the action that's going to take place soon enough.

The hunter squirms and whines, pushing down on the slick digit only to find the angel has pulled it away. Those needy orbs turn icy at the loss, glowering viciously at his lover. With a joyful snicker, the finger presses all the way in. Dean gasps, eyes going wide with the intrusion he wasn't expecting. Castiel loosens him up, thrusting that finger in and out before adding a second.

The green-eyed man moans loudly at the scissoring feeling, nails scratching along Castiel's shoulders. Inside, in that tiny part of his mind that isn't fogged by lust, he curses himself for sounding like a wanton whore. Then again, it seems to excite Castiel... so maybe it isn't all that bad.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Please, Cas... I need... I need you... so bad, Cas. _Please_...”

“I love it when you say that,” the angel purrs. “Can you feel how hard it gets me?”

“Oh, fuck, Cas,” Dean groans low. “I never thought an _angel_ could talk like that.”

“I've learned quite a few things from you angels shouldn't do.”

The tone is soaked in humor and seduction, turning Dean on all the more. He bucks his hips restlessly as Castiel tightens his hold. The other is just coating his arousal, eager to enter the tight heat of his hunter. When the tip of his sex breaches the first ring, green eyes shut tight as Dean's lips part in a gasp. There are no lips demanding sloppy kisses or leaving a trail of nips along his neck, Castiel is leaning back to watch his face as he impales the hunter on his cock. It's a beautiful sight, those perfect features twisted in a mixture of pain and pleasure, and he can't help but find himself enthralled.

When he's completely within the velvet tightness, Dean tries to screw himself on the generous arousal. His actions are frantic and the need within his eyes is obvious. Castiel stills his hips, unwilling to allow the action. Slowly, he pulls himself almost all the way out, giving a sharp thrust back in and striking Dean's prostate dead on. The hunter writhes and cries out, the sound loud even as it echos in the tiled room. The sound of skin slapping against skin drowned out by all the sexual vocalizations falling from Dean's lips. Normally he's so quiet during sex.

The cuffs rattle against the metal they wrap around as he fights with them, likely leaving bruising on his skin if not harsh redness. He wants to touch the man claiming him, wants to run his hands down Castiel's strong back. In the absence of his hands, Dean tightens his legs around the angel's waist. His head drops back at a particularly hard strike, smacking against the tiles there with an audible thump.

“Please, Cas,” he murmurs breathlessly. “Oh, god... ah... hah... oh, Cas... _fuck_! Please, go faster... fuck me f-faster... h-harder...”

“And _who_ is the alpha here?” Cas asks with a teasing smirk.

“Are you serious?”

“So very. It's important you know your place in the bedroom, it's the only place I won't let you get away with everything.”

“... I'm _so_ not going there,” Dean mutters. “I'm nobody's bitch.”

Castiel stops all movement, watching Dean with patient eyes. The hunter sends him an indignant look, disbelief clearing within his own green pools. When he tries to coax the other to continue by thrusting back onto his cock, his movements are stopped by strong hands. The hunter groans in frustration, almost whining in his need to release, yet it doesn't faze his lover. Castiel is looking for something important right now, he's looking for his mate to finally accept his position as omega in their relationship. He can't protect Dean while he still believe he's an alpha, it just doesn't work that way. They need to stop butting heads.

“Cas... don't do this to me, man,” Dean whines. “Come on, what makes a difference?”

“It makes a difference to me,” he frowns. “You're my... bitch, as you so nicely put it. You need to understand that. A relationship with two alphas falls apart easily, I won't have that. Do you understand, starlight?”

“... This is sadistic.”

“Nevertheless, you'll fall into place or I'll leave you cuffed here until you do.”

Dean's eyes go wide, his mouth falling open in shock. In all the years he's known this man, this angel of the lord, he never would've guessed he had a kink such as this. Never mind the dirty talk and bondage... he has a control fetish! As much as that keeps rolling around in his head, however, a small part of him... one that been slowly growing in size... denies it. It keeps saying 'this is right, this is true, it's for your own good'.

Green orbs stare pleadingly at the unmoving angel, the straining length between them begging for more friction. It's difficult to deny his precious light anything, yet Castiel stands strong. This needs to be done. Finally, after what seems forever, Dean realizes this is just turning him on worse and his erection isn't likely to go down anytime soon. He groans and bristles, yet falls to Castiel's request.

“I'm your bitch,” he mutters.

“What was that, Dean?” Castiel teases with harsh thrust into him. “I didn't quite hear you.”

“I'm... I'm yours,” Dean gasps out.

“Mm... I know you are,” the angel chuckles. “You're my what?”

The words escape him as Castiel picks up his pace, hammering into Dean's prostate relentlessly. It's so good, so damn good, and the hunter can almost see those white spots before his eyes. His body is slowly lifted up the wall with the ferocity of Castiel's penetration, hard enough to lift yet not to harm. He has perfect control over his body... and, apparently, Dean's. He howls with pleasure, the rattling of the cuffs returning tenfold as he tries to escape them.

That delicious heat is pooling in his belly, sweat dripping down his brow and covering his skin. Castiel uses it to glide along his torso more smoothly, his lips sucking at Dean's adam's apple. It draws a loud moan from the hunter, his hips jerking in a phantom spasm as his release draws nearer. Just as he's about to come, the angel stills and starts to thrust too shallow to strike that pleasure button.

“Tell me,” Castiel pants out excitedly. “You're my what?”

“Ah... Cas... hah... oh god, yes... I... I'm your bitch,” Dean forces out. “Oh god, I'm your bitch! C-Cas, please... _please_... I... I want... ah, ah! Hah... ah... _Fuck_!”

The thrusts go deeper, slamming in harder, and the hunter wails in ecstasy as he thoroughly claimed. His angel hums against his throat, nibbling on the skin there as though it's far too fragile to play rough with. He soaks up all the wanton noises Dean releases, a small smirk playing on his lips as he reaches between them. A single finger ghosts along the length of Dean's sex and the hunter sucks in a sharp breath, his back arching at a painful angle as hot fluids spurt forward to coat their chests. His velvety walls clamp down on Castiel harshly, the angel thrusting quickly into that delightful heat before his hands clamp down bruising on the hunter's hips. He yanks Dean down as he thrusts up, burying his sex as deeply as possible as he spills his seed.

White flashes before his eyes, a low groan of pleasure leaving his throat. His Grace lashes out, wrapping around Dean tightly before intruding through his pores. It entwines with his soul, sending a wash of pure perfection through the hunter that has him coming a second time. Dean moans as the orgasm rushes through his sensitive figure unexpectedly, back arching again though only just. Castiel carefully pulls out, one leg immediately placing itself between Dean's so it can hold him up. He can feel the fluids dripping onto his own leg from Dean's entrance. It's almost as erotic as the blissful look upon the hunter's face. The aftershock of their activities has the green-eyed man moaning quietly for a few minutes, writhing in lingering pleasure. It's a high he never thought he'd come down from.

Finally, Castiel reaches up and the cuffs vanish. Dean's entire weight falls atop him, yet he holds the other up like an immovable rock. Slowly, he slides him down to the floor of the shower. The water has turned a tad less than lukewarm during their activities, so washing up goes quickly. The hunter doesn't move the entire time, simply watching as Castiel scrubs them both down. He's tired and his mind is completely blown.

“Where did you learn to have sex like that?” Dean gasps out, still trying to catch his breath.

“It's instinctual,” Castiel shrugs. “When an angel lets loose like that, it's usually only with their mate. Their Grace gets carried away and marks the soul in a possessive exchange... it lasts an eternity. You're my mate, it seemed only fitting I claim you as such.”

“... We need to do that more often.”

“It pleases you?”

“ _Pleases_ me? It got me off twice in only seconds,” Dean snorts in humor. “It's the best sex I will probably _ever_ have in my existence! Face it, you ruined me for anyone else.”

“Well... that _is_ the point of a claiming.”

“You did a damn fine job,” the hunter pants out with a pat to Castiel's shoulder. “Okay... I'm going to sleep. Wake me in an hour or two.”

Before he can say another word, Dean's eyes are closed and his breathing has evened out in slumber. Castiel turns the shower off and grabs a couple towels, drying off his lover before himself. He carefully wraps them both in the fluffy material, lifting Dean into his arms and carrying him back to the bedroom. He'll lay with his mate for now, having nothing better to do, and worry about Kushiel later. There's no sense in wondering what she's up to when she can't make a move without leverage against Castiel.


	20. Crime and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean returns to working on the hot rod, trying to keep his mind busy, and finds an escape route Gabriel didn't take into consideration. Out of the bunker and making his way toward town, Sam calls him. When his brother realizes where he is, he decides to give Dean the freedom and not inform the angels watching over them. That has Gabriel steamed when he finds Dean is gone. He punishes Sam through his favorite methods... sex and bondage! While he's busy with Sam, Cas leaves to shadow Dean. Stopping at a diner for some food, Dean finds himself in the company of a rather strange woman. Her presence has Cas on edge and he eventually reveals himself... and also reveals the fact they have history.

Dean wakes with a start back in his own bed, his green eyes immediately searching for Castiel. The angel is lying in bed beside him, eyes closed even though he's not asleep. The hunter sighs and lays back down, resting his head back on Castiel's chest. One hand comes up and strokes brown locks, the angel sighing at the soft feel of Dean's hair. It's a long while of comfortable silence, the two lounging within it as they enjoy one another's company, and then the hunter can't help but shift. He stretches and yawns, basking in the glow of his angel's affection.

The hot rod calls to him, however. He can hear it echoing through the halls as it searches out his ear. Long fingers skilled with weapons and mechanics twitch eagerly, distracting themselves by ghosting along Castiel's torso. The angel hums in approval, finally opening blue eyes to peek down at Dean.

“You're mind is elsewhere,” he comments softly.

“Yeah, I found a car in the midst of being restored,” Dean smirks. “I worked on it for a bit, but then I took a shower and... well... got further distracted. I need to grab something to eat and get back to it.”

“You shouldn't work so hard...”

“I need to. I can't sit around and do nothing, or it'll drive me crazy. And with you and warden Gabriel on the look-out, there won't be any going outside,” the hunter mutters bitterly. “If I can't keep my hands busy with mechanics, I'll keep them busy around Gabriel's _neck_.”

Castiel chuckles at the comment, dropping the arm wrapped around Dean's shoulders. The hunter rolls away from him, getting to his feet and searching for a clean pair of jeans. Throwing on some old clothes worn with time and stained from working in Bobby's scrap yard, Dean heads out to locate the kitchen. His angel is on his heels, every silent as he watches the man before him.

“Like what you see, tiger?” Dean smirks playfully.

“You should know the answer to that by now,” Castiel smiles slyly.

The hunter leans back and reaches to cup Castiel's cheek, pulling him closer so they can kiss. The angel lays his hands on Dean's hips, his fingers stroking the skin just beneath his lover's shirt. Just as the green-eyed man is about to turn around to rut with the winged creature, his ever present cock-block clears his throat.

A soft growl of frustration rumbles from his throat, emerald pools glowering bitterly at his younger brother. Sam has a knowing smirk on his lips, one that Dean has always hated... mostly because the other is right and it's embarrassing. He rolls his eyes and steps away from Castiel, the angel greeting Sam as though nothing happened. Then again, something like that is probably completely normal to the brunette.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long, Dean,” Sam comments. “I put your lunch in the oven, it should still be warm.”

“Thanks, Sammy.”

“So what happened between you heading for the shower and me finding you here?”

“... A flashback,” Dean mutters. “Already dealt with it, already talked about it, don't wanna do it again. Thanks anyway.”

He brushes past his brother, heading to the kitchen with just a slight bristle lingering in his stance. Even Gabriel, sitting at the counter in the kitchen, quickly retreats to the table in the library at the sight. Though he loves to needle to hunter to near death, injury isn't worth it when his powers have yet to be controlled.

Dean chows down on the spaghetti Sam made, the other eager to eat something other than fast food and take out salads, and then heads back to the workshop to work on the car. It isn't hard to see just how antsy being locked in the bunker is making him. Castiel almost feels bad for their decision, yet keeps reminding himself just why they've gone to such an extreme. He sighs and heads into the library, the smell of old books hitting him like a slap to the face. It's a welcome scent, however, one of ages of knowledge. A soft, almost nostalgic, smile settles on Castiel's lips at the thought.

Dean sighs and shuts the hood of the cherry red ride, grabbing a rag to clean up his hands a bit. It's warm within the room, but there's been a nice breeze filled with the chill of autumn drifting through the place. The hunter sighs and wipes the sweat from his brow, the cool air sending goosebumps prickling along his skin beneath the sweat.

He sets down the rag and heads to the sink, washing his hands in the warm water until there's barely a trace of oil and grease on his skin. The breeze, though welcome, is hitting a nerve within his hunter senses. There's something about it that just doesn't feel right... doesn't belong. Gabriel sealed up all the exits and there are no windows in the room... so where's it coming from?

The hunter follows the breeze into the back of the workshop, finding a door hidden in the back cracked open slightly. He pushes it open, gasping at all the car parts and mechanical pieces stocking the shelves where they're not piled along the wall. Dean can swear there are stars in his eyes, shimmering in joy at the little piece of heaven he's found. He quickly shakes it away, focusing on the slight breeze tickling his cheek. Stepping through that room, Dean finds a vent that leads outside.

“Well... what do you know,” he murmurs. “Looks like Gabriel missed an exit.”

With a screwdriver in hand, Dean starts undoing the screws. When the last one falls to the floor, he grabs the vent and removes it with a rough jerk. It clatters to the floor and he kneels down to look through the opening. Carefully, the hunter slides a foot through and leans back. With a quick kick, he forces the outside vent to pop open as well. Afterward, he pulls his leg in and crawls through the vent. Dean tumbles onto the ground outside the bunker, standing to cheer in triumph.

He's in their backyard, so to speak, the trees in front of him tall and thick. Without thinking much on it, Dean replaces the vent he kicked out. His feet take him around to the front of the bunker, making a beeline for the road. The impala is inside the garage, which no longer has a door, so it's on foot from there. For just a moment, he considers turning back. With a sigh, a smaller part of him says he could do with the exercise.

It's been around fifteen minutes to half an hour, the road beginning to get a little more traffic to it. Dean is still wandering along the side of the asphalt stretch, humming to himself in order to keep from thinking of the cold seeping to his bones. He's almost reached the town over, the one closest to the bunker. The hunter has never been so thankful to always keep his cell phone and wallet on him. Just as Dean is about to take a break, his cell phone starts ringing. With a sigh, he pulls it out of his back pocket and presses the answer button.

“Hello?”

“Dean, where are you?” Sam sighs in irritation. “I've been looking for an hour and I still haven't come across that workshop you were talking about.”

“Oh, uh... you can't go... come here,” Dean remarks.

He frowns as a car speed toward him, stepping further off the side of the road. The driver must not be a particularly joyful person, as the distance Dean gives just isn't enough. They lay on the horn well before reaching the wandering hunter. The brunette flips them off as they pass, turning his attention back to his destination after they're gone. Unfortunately, his younger brother is the type to questions _everything_.

“What was that?”

“I... uh... hit the horn on the car I'm working on,” the green-eyed man says quickly as he resists the urge to smack his forehead. “Don't worry about it, I'm fine. I just want to keep myself busy.”

“Dean... you're not telling me something.”

“I don't tell you a lot of things, Sammy,” he scoffs. “Mainly because you'll go all bitchy and rat me out to your winged asshole and Cas.”

“I'm just worried about you!”

“Yeah, well, don't be. I'll be done in a few hours, okay? Just chill for a bit.”

“Fine, just... be careful,” Sam sighs. “And at least bring me back a magazine or something.”

The line goes dead and Dean stares at his phone in shock. Sam's normally pretty observant, yet the older Winchester was positive he wouldn't guess he's on the lamb from warden Gabriel. A slight shrug of his shoulders and the hunter continues on his way, making a mental note to get Sam more than just a magazine.

Sam is fidgety, his eyes glued to the book in front of him, and Gabriel immediately knows something is off with his mate. At first, he doesn't pay much interest. Sam is a bit like Dean, if you push he starts pushing away... not that he'd admit it. After a bit, however, a flash of guilt strikes him through their link.

“Okay, what's going on,” he sighs. “And before you tell me 'nothing', remember that I can read your mind.”

“... I can't tell you,” Sam replies smartly. “If you want to find out, you have to learn it yourself. And if you read my mind, I'll kick your ass.”

“... Cas, where's Dean?” he asks the angel reading on the couch.

“He was in the workshop a little while ago, why?” Castiel murmurs.

Gabriel watches Sam's face carefully through this exchange, catching the panic and slight relief. If he didn't know the Winchester boys so well, he'd never realize which path to go down. With a shuddering sigh, he sets his cheek against his fist and gazes at the hunter trying to avoid him.

“Why don't you check his presence again.”

Castiel hums to himself, looking toward the ceiling as he searches out Dean. At the small frown on his lips, Sam knows he hasn't found him within the bunker. A wider search finds the hunter walking down the street within Castiel's mind. A slight growl leaves his lips as he stands, answering Gabriel's earlier query.

“He's not here, is he?” he asks just for the hell of it.

“No, he's walking toward town. I'll go retrieve him.”

“Wait!” Sam remarks. “Let him be, Cas. I know you don't want us out there, but... he isn't like me. He needs to roam a bit, stretch his legs... get some fresh air. Dean's a wanderer, it's amazing he started thinking of this place as home! Just... don't bring him back here. Let him think he got away with something for once, okay?”

“I won't leave him roaming on his own.”

“Then follow him, but not so he can see you,” he begs. “Let him have this victory.”

Castiel huffs, crossing his arms defensively. He doesn't want to let Dean wander, that much is obvious, yet he knows how bad the other takes it when he feels imprisoned. With a defeated sigh, the angel disappears and leaves Gabriel to deal with Sam. The mischievous angel-turned-trickster, however, knows exactly what he wants to be doing with his mate.

He stands from his chair, walks over to his mate, and drags him out of his chair. Sam utters protest, which is immediately silenced with Gabriel's mouth. When Sam gasps in surprise, he slips his tongue past the hunters lips. Though he plays submissive for his mate's pride, Gabriel isn't always the good little beta. He might go both ways for the sake of getting laid, yet he's more dominant than anything. One day, he'll manage to coax Sam beneath him. Until then, however, the taller man is just going to have to deal with having to fight for the position of alpha.

A hand gropes Sam's cock, the male with long light brown locks moans even as he jumps in surprise. Their first coupling gave Sam more control, though their first make out session put Gabriel in control, and he wasn't really expecting the forwardness here. He's pushed back onto the table, one hand easily holding him down as hooded gold eyes gaze at him heatedly.

“You're a very bad boy, Sammy,” Gabriel smirks, his personality as Loki rising to the surface. “Letting your brother sneak out of the haven I created and not telling me. You need a nice, long, heated punishment. Don't you think?”

A shiver darts along Sam's spine at the words, his lust begging to give in even as his pride denies it. Gabriel chuckles to himself, knocking Sam's legs apart with one of his own. Boldly, he steps closer to the table and settles himself between strong thighs. He leans down, his arms trapping the hunter with a hand on each side of him, and presses his lips to Sam's neck. A groan tumbles from his lips at the nip given, the trickster smirking against smooth skin before starting to suck and nibble. He'll be damned if he doesn't mark Sam in one way or another as his.

The hunter's hands finally lift to grip Gabriel's sides, rubbing up and down gently. Blue eyes have closed, that head of long brown hair dropping to the tabletop. It's a beautiful sight. With nimble fingers, the shorter man starts to unbutton Sam's shirt. His lips follow his fingers, tasting the skin revealed in an attempt to keep the other distracted.

“Gabe,” Sam sighs out.

Gabriel shivers at the sound of his name rolling off that tongue, his hands moving lower to Sam's jeans now that the shirt is open. Between them, a coursing energy builds their lust rapidly. He never told Sam, but the bond they share as mates normally takes on a mind of its own. Sometimes it'll be extra eager for sex, other times it'll want nothing more than cuddling, and every so often it'll decide they need space. He's never understood it himself, never wanted it. Then again, with Sam beneath him and his pupils blown wide in lust... he can't bring himself to regret it one bit.

Long fingers grip his tee shirt, pulling it up eagerly, and he removes his hands from Sam's pants to allow the disrobing. It's only fair, right? Once the shirt is tossed to the floor, followed by the hunter's, Gabriel returns to unzipping Sam's fly and popping the button of his jeans. He could've easily snapped his fingers and left them naked... but undressing is half the fun in his opinion. At least he doesn't have to contend with complicated articles like bras and, heaven forbid, corsets.

“Gabe,” Sam moans softly as their hips connect.

The angel-turned-trickster grins mischievously, bucking his hips into Sam and rubbing their trapped erections together. It's a dirty trick, but he's not known for his clean ones. From just one grind, he can tell they're both rock hard and ready... yet right now, he's feeling a bit sadistic. There won't be release any time soon if he has anything to say about it.

Hands are in his hair, gripping tight to his brown locks, and a quiet moan slips past his guard. Without further ado, he yanks Sam's jeans down passed his knees and soaks up the sight before him. Blue eyes are clouded and half lidded, soft lips are swollen from their kisses, and the hunter's chest is heaving from loss of breath. Looking down further, he can see the other's arousal standing proud from the slit in his boxers. Gabriel licks his lips at the sight of the pre-cum beading at the tip. He pulls the boxers off, leaving his own pants where they are for the moment, and kneels before the table.

Sam lifts himself onto his forearms to watch, the thin ring of blue almost lost to his pupils when that impish tongue slides along his length. A few more teasing licks, and then Gabriel takes the hunter's generous sex into his mouth. One strong suck and Sam's head is back on the table, a loud moan filling the room. He gazes down the length of his body, watching a head of brown bobbing in his lap. The sucking sensation stays strong for a bit, and then lightens up, the bobbing going fast before going slow. It's excruciating and he's loving every second of it.

A hand slides under Sam's ass, squeezing now and then to grasp some sort of anchor. Gabriel's free hand reaches between the hunter's legs to fondle his balls. There's a thunk from along the table, pausing Gabriel's movements. He glances up along Sam's body, realizing he thumped his head onto the wood. He smirks around the mouthful of hunter, humming to draw more reactions. The vibrations have Sam gasping, the hunter fighting to keep from blowing his load right there. His fingers are tugging hard at the trickster's hair, almost painfully, and Gabriel knows it's because he's about to come undone. He quickly backs off, watching the frazzled hunter with a teasing smile until his orgasm falls from his grasp.

Sam grabs Gabriel's hair and pulls him closer, locking their lips and reveling the taste of himself on that devious tongue. He moans into the kiss, the feel of the trickster's warms hands running along his body sending shivers through him. Gabriel scrapes his nails along Sam's sides as they kiss heatedly, his tongue pushing into the hunter's mouth uninvited. One hand reaches up and grips the back of the taller man's head when he pulls away a bit.

Fingers are at his jeans now, fumbling with the button and zipper there. It would be easier for Sam had he broken the lip lock and his hands were shaking so badly with desire... but the Winchesters never do anything the easy way. Frustrated and clearly hard to the point of pain, Sam growls and bites Gabriel's bottom lip. The other chuckles, taking over the job of undoing his pants. The jeans that hung precariously around Sam's ankles have fallen off by now, so when Gabriel's hit the floor he gratefully steps out of them.

“So, lover,” he smirks. “What do you think your punishment should be today? I just can't let you get away with endangering your precious brother, can I? You have to learn your lesson.”

“Do I now,” Sam chuckles.

“You've no idea.”

For a moment, a wash of cold touches the finer layers of Sam's subconscious. Mainly because that part of him knows he's not only dealing with Gabriel, angel of the lord... but also Loki, trickster god. It doesn't make it past the heavy layer of lust provided by their bond, however, so it goes ignored. Unbidden, the thought of Castiel and Dean suddenly showing up and finding them like this strikes. It brings an overwhelming excitement to Sam, much to his embarrassment.

Gabriel seems to read his mind, grinning widely before snapping his fingers. Before Sam can even think about it, his wrists are bound to the table above his head with thick leather straps. At first all he can feel is disbelief. As that slowly passes, however, his eyes narrow in warning at the trickster. Gabriel isn't fazed one bit, still watching his mate teasingly.

“Hmm... can you imagine Dean's face should he be forced back here... to this very spot... with you in such a precarious position,” he comments in a low husky voice.

“For your sake, that better not happen,” Sam glares. “Now, untie me.”

“I can't do that, you're being punished... remember?” the golden-eyed male smirks. “Maybe next time you'll think twice before going along with one of Dean's idiotic plans to kill himself.”

“Gabriel!”

“I can add a gag if you'd like,” he warns.

Sam's mouth snaps shut, though his glare only gets more heated. A pleased nod is given by the trickster, his finger drawing little shapes on the hunter's belly as he contemplates what to do next. There are so many possibilities. He hums to himself as he gazes down on his mate, who looks furious at the moment for the lack of attention... or maybe it's the bondage, it's so hard to tell with Sam. Though he has a bitch-face for pretty much every occasion, Gabriel isn't as skilled at reading them as Dean is.

He walks around to the side of the table, leaning on it coyly as he watches his panting lover. Sweat has already begun to bead on that tan skin, a blush effectively eating up the hunter's face at the feeling of exposure. The trickster decides he likes that look on his mate. Finally he crawls up onto the table and straddles Sam's lap. The brunette leans forward and kisses his mate, slipping his tongue between parted lips and exploring that heated cavern until he's satisfied. Which means, he lingers until the lip lock turns heated and needy.

Their hips rock together, the movement getting more urgent. The whole place is just too warm, even for being in nothing but their skin. Gabriel pulls off his boxers as he moves his lips down to Sam's throat. He tosses them to the floor with the rest of their clothes, sucking on the skin beneath the hunter's chin. There's a loud moan, the sound of the leather straps stretching, and Gabriel's hands drift downward. A finger teases Sam's hole, just to test the waters, and the hunter's body jerks in surprise.

“Don't you f-fucking dare,” he hisses through his incoherent thoughts. “You won't get laid for a f-fucking _year_ if you take advantage of me l-like this!”

“... One of these days, I'll top you,” Gabriel comments determinedly.

“If you _ever_ want that d-day to come, you sure as hell w-won't let it be _today_!”

With a groan of relent, he backs off Sam's entrance and continues with molesting his neck. He withholds any friction, just to punish the other further for not being open minded. Sam squirms beneath him growling in frustration as he tries to buck into Gabriel, failing gloriously with each attempt. He can barely think of a solid sentence to coax the trickster to stop teasing, let alone string the words together.

Finally, the torment is getting to be too much for even Gabriel. He snaps his fingers, a tube of lube appearing on the table beside Sam. Not for the first time, he thanks Ming Yue for the powers she bestowed upon him. Sure, Angel's can do a lot of stuff... but Tricksters can do so much more. Not to mention, with the power of both he's quite the force to reckon with.

Not completely over the fact Sam refused to let him top, Gabriel coats his fingers and holds himself up with his free hand. His body is still leaned over Sam, his eyes locked with the blue pools beneath him, but he's on his hands and knees so the other can't reach with his wild thrusts. Without further ado, he sinks the first finger into his entrance.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Sam moans in desperation.

The man atop him chuckles in humor, stretching himself and making a show of it. Sam can barely control himself, his hips already searching for something... anything... just as long as he gets the release he craves. His partner, however, refuses him. The hunter's eyes almost look crazed in his need, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. When Gabriel finally removes his three fingers, reaching back to guide Sam's girth to his entrance, it takes everything the hunter has not to plow into him without thought.

Granted, the trickster likely deserves it... but he's still Sam's mate. As he goes down on Sam, loud moans tumble from both of them. The taller man is gifted in more than just height, something Gabriel is overjoyed at. Being filled by him causes a sensation he'll never feel with another, not when their bond only adds to the experience. By the time he's taken all of the hunter in, Sam has lost any inclination to spare him pain. He bucks his hips hard, nearly knocking the brunette off him, and Gabriel answers by adding another leather strap around his hips.

“Oh come on!” Sam shouts in annoyance.

“Hey, you get to stay top, I get to be in control,” he remarks with a shrug. “It's only fair. You want to be in control, _you_ bend over and take it.”

Sam opens his mouth to argue, yet he's silenced by the other squeezing around him purposefully. Once he's positive the hunter's mouth is only open in pleasure, he lifts himself up and drops back down. He rides Sam at a leisurely speed, rolling his hips languidly and humming to himself at the building pleasure. The sight of Sam bound beneath him is erotic, something he'll dream about for at least the next few weeks, but he was really hoping to drive into the other. The disappointment is pushed aside with the promise it'll happen eventually. They have forever, after all, and he's a very patient person.

The taller man tries to fight against the leather strap holding his hips down, his brows wrinkling in frustration. The feeling of his mate sliding along his shaft is almost enough to distract him from his goal of getting loose... almost. Gabriel realizes what he's doing, smirking to himself as he speeds up his rhythm. Their breathing is back to sharp pants of air, their bodies trembling with passion as they collide toward the end. The sound of skin slapping skin mixes in with their panting, the occasional moan slips from Gabriel and Sam groans in need. He can feel heat pooling in his gut, can feel the spring winding so tight it's about to snap, yet he can't do anything to help it.

The trickster is in control now, only he can give him the release they seek... and he certainly doesn't seem to be in the mood to do so. Gabriel's head is thrown back, his mouth open in a silent scream, and his body rides Sam at an exhausting speed. One that belies his supernatural blood. Finally, Sam's head thunks onto the table and he moans long and loud. His release is right there, he's on the edge of the cliff with only his toes keeping him there. One step backward, just half an inch backward and he's falling. Gabriel tightens up, crying out his orgasm, and Sam gets ready for it... finding the trickster's fingers pinching it off.

“... What the fuck!” Sam whines out.

Gabriel's body shudders, his hot fluids spilling onto them. With a soft moan of satisfaction, he lies his body along Sam's. Warm breath heats up Sam's already moist skin, the hunter growling in irritation as he glares at his mate. It's only a moment of rest, and then the brunette is sliding off Sam's straining erection. Now that his breath has caught up to him, he gazes down at his irate lover humorously.

“You're being punished, remember?” Gabriel muses teasingly. “There won't be any filling _this_ ass today. You'll have to make do with whatever I decide to give you... and be happy I'm not leaving you like this for Dean to find.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Try me.”

He doesn't answer, knowing not to press the other. When push comes to shove, he has _no_ doubt Gabriel would do just that. The golden-eyed man sighs to himself, petting Sam's long strands of hair, and slides down his body to set his feet on the floor once more. He watches... nothing more... and Sam's head gives another healthy thump to the table in his exasperation. Gabriel chuckles, reaching over and gripping the other's length. He would've sucked him off, but the thought of where that shaft just was put him off to the idea. It doesn't take much, he was so close already, and within a few rough pumps Sam's body is shuddering.

The orgasm hits him hard, leaving him practically blind for a short moment. It wracks his body like a vicious disease, tearing down his spine and erupting almost painfully. The relief and satisfaction left in its wake is indescribable. With a moan that shouldn't have sounded as whorish as it did, Sam passes out on the table.

“Oh good, he enjoyed it,” Gabriel grins impishly. “Wait until next time he needs punished... I'll leave him here on display!”

With a snap of his fingers, the leather restraints are gone and he carefully lifts Sam into his arms. He's gone in a flash, reappearing in the taller man's room. He's snoozing quite peacefully when he's laid in bed, already perfectly clean from when the restraints were removed. Gabriel drapes the blankets over his naked body, returning to the library to gather their discarded clothing. A large grin splays along his face as he returns to Sam. He'll lay with him for now... maybe they'll have round two when he wakes up!

Dean is walking along the streets of the nearby town aimlessly. He wanted out of the bunker so badly, but now that he is... he has no clue what to do with himself. The smell of food from a diner catches his attention, it's well past lunch and his stomach is beginning to remind him of that. Curiously, he glance at the clock through the large window at the diner's front. Time has slipped away from him, it's already nearing five and he hasn't gotten a hold of Sam yet. Maybe he should give him a call.

With a slight sigh, he goes for his phone... yet his hand stills at his back pocket. There's a strange energy in the air around him, almost calling to him and causing the hairs at the back of his neck to stand up. It's familiar, though, and he doesn't feel threatened by it. Shrugging it off, he forgets the phone call and heads into the building. He should go back home, go back to Sam before Gabriel and Castiel find out he's missing, but the freedom is giving him a heady sensation. It's such a rush to think he just pulled one over on a couple of all powerful angels.

The booth at the back is away from everyone, so he takes a seat there and gazes at the menu. It doesn't escape his notice that beneath that heady awesomeness he's feeling, there's a slight guilt and a tinge of helplessness he's never felt before. It's almost as if without Castiel around, his body is automatically preparing itself for an attack he can't win. It's ridiculous and it's pissing him off... but he can't ignore this feeling.

“What'll you have cutie?” the waitress asks with a coy smile.

“Just a burger and some fries,” he murmurs.

“Right away, handsome.”

She walks off, her hips swaying seductively. Dean can't help that his eyes follow her progress, old habits die hard after all, yet the energy he felt before gets heavier. It crackles in anger mixed with disappointment. The hunter frowns a bit, looking around himself just in case he missed something before. When he sees nothing, he shrugs and turns his attention to the diner.

There are a few patrons in the place, though not many. Apparently, people stop in for dinner at a later time. He's not upset about this, though the waitress's attention is becoming almost stalkerish. He can see her gazing at him from the order window as though she's about to eat him up. Carefully, he avoids eye contact.

“Is this seat taken?” someone asks.

“Actually, I'm not really...”

He doesn't get to finish, as they sit down across from him anyway. She's a lithe woman, almost boney, with pale skin and black hair cut in a bob. Her lips are painted crimson and her eyes are a strange golden color that seems oddly familiar to him. Those long nimble fingers are woven together, elbows on the table and lips pressed against her steepled digits.

“... Uh... I'm sorry, you must have mistook me for someone else,” Dean says warily.

“I think not, unless there are two Dean Winchesters, highly renowned hunters of supernatural beings, in the world.”

“Highly renowned? Now I _know_ you're looking for someone else,” the hunter snorts derisively. “We piss off a lot of people, that's the only name we make for ourselves, lady. Are you looking to kill me like the rest?”

“My father would be quite upset should I do that, though the thought _has_ crossed my mind. I won't lie about that, there's no sense in it,” she waves off.

Dean's eyes gaze at her attire, finding a tight black dress with crimson stilettos on her feet. Her stockings are fishnet with little bat shapes scattered about them, a tiny black top hat with small rubies on the net bunched around it sits atop her head. Skulls dangle from chains on her ears, their eyeless sockets gawking at him almost accusingly. He clears his throat and takes a sip of his pop.

“Your father, huh? Is _he_ looking to kill me?”

“Of course not, you dumbass,” she scoffs. “He already _owns_ one of you, killing the other would only get him in trouble with his... my stepbrother.”

“Okay, you lost me around the time you sat at my booth,” Dean sighs. “Either tell me what the fuck is going on or leave, I don't have time for this.”

“I realize that, you're supposed to be under lock and key,” she smirks teasingly. “I see all, you know... well... almost all. I can't, for the fucking _life_ of me, figure out where my father is hiding out. I never can, though, he's awfully good at disappearing where his children are concerned.”

“Aren't they all,” Dean scoffs.

“Anyway, when I caught your presence, as weak as it was, I couldn't just sit around and let things be. I don't appreciate being hunted down, so when I know someone wants something from me... I go to them. My father wants something from me,” she comments. “You're going to tell him what I'm about to tell you. Understand?”

“... And I'm still lost on what the hell you're doing here and who the fuck you are,” he comments coldly.

Her pretty blood colored lips pull down in a frown, her strange eyes going just as cold as his voice. There's no doubt his attitude is something she doesn't deal with often. The hunter doesn't care, always one to see just how far he can step his toe over the lines set. After a moment, she sighs and leans back. On long leg crosses over the other at the knee, her arm stretched over the back of the booth as she taps the digits of the free one on the table. In a flash Dean blames on the lighting, he catches the left half of her body changing. It's so quick he almost misses it, yet there's no mistaking when her skin disappears and he's gazing at nothing but bone and muscle.

She ignores his open gaping, her golden eyes now ringed with a vibrant blue. When that missing skin returns, just a heartbeat later, the blue vanishes as well. The woman looks as normal as any other in the diner. Dean glances to the side, worried for his sanity, and then returns his gaze back to the hostile woman in front of him. He notes that she didn't scoot all the way to the wall, leaving a good amount of room behind her. It's almost like someone else should be sitting there.

“Look, you sexy little asshole,” the woman hisses out. “As much as I'm torn between beating the shit out of you and riding you down to hell and back, you need to start listening. I have what you're in need of and if you continue to piss me off, I'll tell you to fuck off and walk away. Just because my father is the one asking, doesn't mean I have to do as he says. I'm my own woman and I owe him nothing. Especially after he's shown such favoritism to my stepbrother and took on that little slut as a life-mate! So I suggest you shut your damn mouth, open your fucking ears, and start taking notes!”

Dean glares at her heatedly, a part of him ready to rise to the bitch-fight challenge set forth even as another is completely stunned by her usage of words. The energy around them begins to crackle again, more violently and filled with a tinge of blood lust. It seems to unnerve her, those golden eyes glancing around for the cause of it.

“... Someone is watching us,” she mutters out. “Someone very powerful... that _isn't_ my father.”

“Wait a second,” Dean frowns as realization hits him. “Damn it. Cas, did Sam send you after me?”

The brunette appears at the seat left by the strange woman, his eyes pinning her to the booth as he glowers at her with furious blue. Dean's exasperation is quite clear, though there's just a hint of gratefulness. Castiel could've dragged him back without hesitation, yet he allowed Dean to wander about instead.

It's quite simple to see the electricity between the two, the angel obviously pissed the woman insinuated she's like to have sex with Dean. The hunter was slightly aware of the other's possessiveness, yet didn't know it was this bad. He looks about ready to smite her and everyone else in this place.

“Cas,” Dean remarks to draw his attention. “How long have you been following me?”

“Around the time you hung up from Sam,” he offers a bit sheepishly. “Gabriel knew he was hiding something and took a guess at what it was. I thought you'd like to walk around a bit, but I didn't want you to be out here without me watching over you. If Hel can find you, there's a good chance Kushiel can as well.”

“Kushiel? God, what the hell have you gotten yourself into little brother?” the woman, now known as Hel, frowns.

“I didn't get myself into anything, she started targeting Dean to get to me,” Castiel argues. “I don't know why, but Gabriel said...”

“Loki! His name is Loki! If you can't remember to call him that, then call him 'dad', damn it!” she shouts in a fit of anger.

“... _Dad_ said it was because I was strong enough to stop her,” he forces out through gritted teeth. “I was human at the time, so she only made things worse for herself.”

Dean watches all this in mild disbelief... Castiel has siblings, has a crazy psycho chick as a sister, and is now calling Gabriel 'dad'. If eyes could spontaneously fall out of their sockets from shock, his would be halfway across the floor by now. It's easy to see these two don't get along, which makes Dean think back to his earlier conversation with Hel. She was referring to Gabriel when she said 'father', which means she was referring to Castiel when she said 'stepbrother'... and Sam when she commented on how he was a 'slut'.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Dean states. “You called my brother a slut!”

“What am I supposed to call him? Stepmommy? I don't think so.”

“I don't fucking care what you call him as long as you refer to him nicely! It's not like he chose to be with that psychotic asshole you call 'father'!”

Hel stands as does Dean, the two facing off in a flurry of static and irritation. Both lean on the table, eyes filled with venom and bitterness, and then... a dainty hand is in Dean's shirt front. He's yanked forward, his lips abruptly stopped by Hel's, and a tongue licks along his soft lips. Resisting the urge to gasp in surprise, the hunter quickly pulls away from her hooded gaze.

“What the hell was that?” he nearly shrieks in shock.

“She's testing my patience,” Castiel hisses.

“Oh don't be so dramatic, little brother,” she scoffs. “I'm merely welcoming him to the family. It's not everyday we manage to add a hunter as skilled as he is to the fold, you know. Besides, something in the way he practically attacked me earlier tells me he doesn't play on the level I need. Pity, I wouldn've liked to indulge in him had he.”

“... What's she talking about?” Dean demands as he sits back down.

He scoots as far away from Hel as he can get, nearly melting into the wall behind him. Those vibrant green eyes watch her warily, his arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to guard himself physically. It doesn't work as well as Castiel's embrace would've, but it's something. As for Castiel, the angel's hands are balled into fists and rage has turned his eyes the dark blue of an incoming hurricane. He's trying to soothe his temper with deep breathes, which tells Dean the siblings at least seek to get along.

“She means you're not a dominant,” Cas murmurs. “She enjoys breaking their delusions of themselves as 'masters of the bedroom'. You tend to hand control over easily... not her type.”

“Excellent, then don't touch me again,” Dean replies.

“I wouldn't dream of it. I may get away with a lot of shit with our dad, but I never get away with anything more than once with daddy's little angel,” she states in a mocking tone. “No one ever does. He's a very selfish and spoiled baby, that one.”

“I am not!”

“You are, too. Don't make me start with the stories, Casandra, I have centuries worth,” Hel remarks. “And I have nothing better to do than watch people, my family especially. That means I probably know a shit load of stuff you've done and never thought anyone would know about.”

To Dean's surprise, Castiel's mouth snaps shut and he turns away from the woman teasing him. He wracks his brain to bring up anything he's ever learned about Hel, yet comes up empty-handed. For once in his life, the hunter wishes he were more the bookish type like Sam. Instead, he settles for waiting... as he normally does. And just as it normally does... it doesn't last long. His curiosity gets the better of him and he can't help but blurt out the questions forming in his mind.

“Why didn't he rise to your bait?” he asks.

“Unlike other supernatural creatures, my sight doesn't pertain to only the Earth. I can see within Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory as well. I can follow my family members to all ends of every world, probably beyond that as well,” she explains. “That's why I'm capable of seeing you even though you're protected by a myriad of different sigils and wards. I'm probably the only creature that will ever get this close to wherever the hell you've been hiding. No one has sight as strong as mine.”

“That's awesome,” Dean smirks. “So that's how you knew your pops was gonna send for you?”

“I knew because I could hear him planning it. It's not like telepathy... I just... get a feeling. It's never wrong, so when it popped up I knew I had to get here first. He's going to ask me for a weapon, one he stole from Odin many years ago after he was reprimanded for pulling a prank on Thor. Father never took reprimanding gracefully,” she waves off. “What I need from you, is to tell him where I want to meet with him and at what time.”

Dean raises a brow at her demanding tone, sending a look at Castiel. The brunette is facing his

'sister' again, yet he's far from about to pounce on her in vengeful spite. It would appear her forwardness with Dean is either no threat, or was expected on some level. The hunter is going to go with the second. After a short moment, he sighs and waves his hand expectantly.

“Okay, shoot.”

“I have a lot on my plate, overseeing Helheim and all. Now that the world's found a relative peace, more people are dying of sickness and old age... those are the ones I watch over in the afterlife,” she explains. “Not to mention, Fenrir and Jormungandr are eager to meet the new apple of daddy's eye. I mean, he must be quite the bitch for dad to mate with on a level he never did with mom.”

“Angrboda couldn't help that all she could bring a person was grief and sorrow,” Castiel remarks. “Dad loved her, he just... he never wanted to bond with anyone on the level he is now. Like Dean said... we didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. It was already set out by the balance deities, Ming Yue and Xia.”

“What do they have to do with anything!”

“They're Sam and Dean's mothers, they have _everything_ to do with this.”

Everything stills, even Hel's breathing, and Dean wonders if anyone else has noticed she's not taking in oxygen anymore. He didn't think his mother could instill _this_ much fear in a person with just the utterance of her name. It lasts longer than it should, the hunter's worry someone might notice Hel isn't breathing anymore growing with each passing second. Had she been human, her face would've been changing color if she hadn't passed out already.

“... Hel?” Dean whispers urgently. “You need to take in a breath before people start questioning your status among the living.”

“... Right,” she murmurs. “Look... tell daddy dearest to come visit me at home. All of you are coming for the family reunion, no questions asked. If you're seriously as powerful as you're made out to be, you'll survive the trip without a problem. I'll see you then.”

With that, Hel stands up and saunters out of the diner. Dean's mouth opens and closes with the need to say something, yet nothing comes out. His food arrives, better late than never, and he quickly orders a salad to go. The waitress brings him to go boxes along with the salad, the hunter quickly paying for the food before storing it neatly in the containers. Once he's finished, he grabs the bag and Castiel's hand. They leave the diner in a rush, disappearing almost the moment they pass the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM! I bet you didn't see that coming! XD I just got so tired of hearing about Loki (not that he isn't awesome), yet they never really delved into the relationships connected with that Norse God side of him. I really wanted to look into it and my very best friend in the whole world loves that sort of mythology, so I did it for us both XD There's more craziness to come, so keep checking the updates XD


	21. Anticipation is a Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the bunker, Dean relays Hel's appearance and demands to Gabriel. Though excited to hear from his daughter, the trickster is also hesitant to accept the invitation given. Cas is left talking him into going, finding that Hel's appearance has brought out a nostalgic side of Gabriel he's never seen. Since they really have no choice but to go, the angels decide a lesson is in order. It's just in case they get separated, as Gabriel isn't willing to trust this children of Loki and their mischievous ways. Though Gabriel's methods work for Sam, Dean is struggling and it's left to Cas to teach him how to travel between worlds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea!!!!!! Another update!!!!!!!! XD You guys are so lucky ;p Anyway, I hope you're ready for the upcoming reunion! I'm sort of working on a request fic right now for the Bleach fandom, so it might take me a while to get any work done on my newest Supernatural fics, but I'll try my hardest to get through them all! =D Until next time!

Dean and Castiel return to the bunker shortly after the encounter, the green-eyed hunter immediately tensing at the empty library. Something is off. He doesn't know what and he's not sure how he knows... but something isn't right. With slow steps that circle the long table, Dean ambles about the room searching for anything off. He stops near where Castiel knows Sam was sitting, the angel cocking a brow in question at the look of utter shock and disbelief.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean gasps. “They had sex here!”

“You can't possibly know that,” Castiel remarks. “I think your overactive libido is causing you to project your desires onto Sam, accusing him of things you want to do and he hasn't.”

“... I'm not even gracing that with a reply,” he mutters. “Oh yeah... and... projecting?”

He picks up a pair of boxers and dangles them in front of him, a smug smirk on his face. They belong to Sam, he knows that much... if they hadn't, he wouldn't touch them with a twenty foot pole. Well, not unless it was lit on fire. The hunter would have to cleanse the room somehow. Castiel blushes for once, glancing away sheepishly at his brother's antics.

Satisfied with the results of his find, Dean tosses the boxers back on the floor and heads toward the living quarters. No doubt he'll find his ravaged brother sleeping there. His angel doesn't follow, not right away, but he doesn't mind being alone for once. As much as the hunter enjoys the feeling of safety that blankets him in Castiel's presence, he also enjoys the quiet of solitude on some occasions. This is one of them.

Sam is just rousing when Dean locates the room, his long arms over his head in a deep stretch. When blue eyes open and see Dean leaning in his doorway, the color drains from his face. Gabriel is in bed next to him, golden orbs closed and a large grin on his lips. The typical cat that got the canary.

“Wow, how long was Cas gone before he jumped you?” Dean wonders. “And why the hell couldn't you get freaky here instead of on the table I eat at?”

“... Uh... we did...”

“You didn't. Unless you decided on a strip tease that led here, which I highly doubt,” Dean smirks. “I found your boxers by the table.”

The taller Winchester sucks in a sharp breath, his hand immediately palming his face in disbelief. Without thinking further on the matter, he brings his other hand down hard on Gabriel's chest. The angel sits up in shock, not really having been asleep and already snickering in mischief. He takes in the sight of Dean, a frown taking over that humor at the memory of _why_ they had the time to have sex.

“You snuck out!” Gabriel snaps. “I told you to stay put!”

“No, you said you removed all the exits. It's not my fault I'm smarter than you,” Dean provides. “Anyway, it's a good thing I left. I met up with a woman who knows you well. In fact, she said you were planning on getting in touch with her. Castiel said her name was Hel.”

“Hel? My baby girl!” Gabriel grins. “How's she doing? Does she look well? Did she say anything about missing her daddy? Tell me everything!”

Dean hums to himself, looking toward the ceiling. After a moment, he turns around and wanders away from the room. The trickster is excited and that means Dean has the upper hand. When he catches the sounds of scrambling about the room, he knows the two will join them soon enough.

In the library, the smell of old books is strong. It's a comforting smell that even Castiel can't help but relax around. All this knowledge written down for the world to see and learn, it's a wonder he'll never get over. When humans evolved enough to create the written word it was a proud day he won't soon forget. With a fond smile upon his lips, his mind trapped in the memories of long ago, he raises a hand to draw a finger down the spine of a book. Dean's presence is all that pulls him back.

His mate has the most interesting energy radiating from him. It's one full of life, warm and soothing while also being harsh in times of danger. Had he not known Dean was a beta from the touch his Grace gave the other's soul in Hell, he would've been highly intimidated by the hunter's wily attitude. As it is, that knowledge alone drew up his alpha side more prominently than anything else could. Having a beta challenge him in the manner Dean did was quite the insult when they first dealt with each other. He turns and gazes upon the distracted male, a shiver tearing through his nerve endings at the sight. The energy has taken on a hazy blue light, surrounding Dean without his knowledge. This blue is calm, yet spikes in eagerness and anxiety. Deep beneath it, Castiel can sense their bond tugging them closer. The pull is familiar to him by now, though probably not to Dean.

The overwhelming need to protect the hunter, to wrap him in his Grace and save him from himself more than the world, has always flowed through him. Even now, when Dean is perfectly safe within the bunker, he wants nothing more than to hold him and tell him everything will be okay.

“Dean, you looked worried,” he comments in that husky voice.

“Mm... Have I ever told you how much your voice turns me on?” Dean asks with hooded eyes.

“No, you haven't,” Castiel smirks in humor. “And at the moment, you're trying to change the subject. What's wrong?”

At the surprise in the hunter's eyes, he realizes their bond isn't only demanding he protect Dean... it's putting the green-eyed male's hormones on a front burner. He doesn't know much about these life-long bonds, it's normally a learn-as-you-go experience. The thought he just may have to ask Gabriel to have the 'birds and bees: version angel' talk with him crosses his mind... he shudders at it. His brother was an adequate father figure in his youth, that's true enough, but this is a talk he hoped he'd never need.

Dean seats himself on a chair, pulling it out before with an echoic scraping of the legs. Those green orbs have darkened in lust, yet hold so much love in their depths it takes Castiel's breath away. He wonders if he looks at Dean that way... how _long_ he's looked at him like that. He's about to ask the hunter that very question when Gabriel drags Sam into the room, swinging the taller male forward so he falls into another available chair.

“What the hell, Gabe!” Sam shouts.

“Okay, spill! What happened, what did she say, did she look healthy... did they try to kill each other?”

The last question is hesitant and almost expectant, making Dean question the relationship Castiel has with his other family. There was mention before of the siblings being jealous of him, yet it was never elaborated on. Perhaps it's to the point they've tried to kill the angel.

“They were civil to each other,” Dean sighs with a smirk. “Though Hel yelled at him once because he called you Gabriel. I swear, man, you have to deal with that.”

“She was well,” Castiel murmurs. “There wasn't a hair out of place and her mood was rather typical of her. Had she not been so hostile, I would've been more worried of her health. She came to tell us she would give you the weapon you asked for, but you had to go to the family reunion in Neflheim. If not, she's not helping.”

“... And we have to go as well,” Dean frowns.

“... When she says family reunion, is she planning on Angrboda showing up?” Gabriel asks quietly. “Because we just might have to find something else if that's the case.”

“Gabriel, we need help,” Sam states softly. “I know you're having trouble separating your double life, but I'm not above meeting your ex to save the world. Now stop acting like a timid chick and let's get going.”

The angel-turned-trickster says nothing to that, merely turning and walking away. Dean and Sam share an odd look at that, neither quite knowing what to say. At the loss of words and Gabriel's growing anxiety, Castiel sighs and hurries after his brother. One hand raises to stay the hunters... this is something he has to do on his own.

The air is cool outside, crisp with the smell of an incoming storm and filled with the energy from it. It makes the hairs on Castiel's neck stand on end. Gabriel has retreated outside, knowing Sam and Dean can't follow him there, and now stands watching the sky. Angry gray clouds are rolling in, though they remain a good distance away for now.

“They just miss you, that's all,” he states. “You aren't well known for spending time with your many children, Gabriel.”

“... You never call me dad,” Gabriel sighs out almost forlornly. “Why is it, out of all my children, you're the only one that never calls me dad. Didn't I raise you well enough? Did I not fill that void our Father left well enough?”

“... What?”

“You used to call me dad, you know,” the archangel smirks fondly. “When you were only a tiny thing, just learning how to look upon the world and use your gifts. You called me daddy, not Gabriel or brother. When did you grow out of it?”

Castiel is quiet now, unable to believe his brother could be so human about something so small. He's never been a father, not like Gabriel has, so the idea of calling anyone but God his Father is strange to him. Granted his memory is perfect and he recalls his time with Gabriel, he doesn't remember calling him anything but Gabriel. Perhaps he buried those memories, ashamed of betraying the Father that created him.

Now that he thinks about that, it was a stupid assumption he was betraying Him. If Gabriel wasn't so happy to have Castiel around, he doubts their Father would've left him in such a manner. Not with all of Heaven eager to end him. He sighs and steps up beside Gabriel, sending him a sidelong gaze as he continues with his reverie.

“I know I was your brother first, Castiel. I realize that. But I took care of you that whole time, I watched out for you constantly when you were just a cherub. There wasn't a day that went by I wasn't watching over you while you played or dragging you along with me to visit the gods of old. Father created you, but I raised you.”

“I didn't realize it meant that much to you,” Castiel remarks with a sad expression. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, Cas, I guess I'm just feeling a tad nostalgic,” the other states. “It's been a long while since my children contacted me. Even as Loki they didn't pay much mind to me, all busy with their own lives and such. I believe you were the first one that showed up... I wasn't at all surprised when you knew who I was right off the bat.”

Silence stretches for a long while, the two simply watching the lightening dance within the clouds. This is as personal as they've ever gotten, leaving the younger angel a bit lost for words. Gabriel has never seemed more like a father then right now, which reminds Castiel of his problem concerning Dean. With a sigh of relent, he decides asking advice might actually work toward his advantage.

“Can you... explain the mating bond to me?” he wonders with a blush. “I can feel it working between Dean and myself, but I don't understand why it's making him so...”

“Horny?” Gabriel smirks teasingly. “The bond actually works rather randomly. It demands protection for the beta from the alpha, but also submission for the alpha from the beta. It's base instinct at work, really. Don't worry so much about it, okay? I'd be more worried about Hel's demands. She's asking some pretty steep shit from me, Castiel. You know the boys have never gotten along well with you. Technically, you're the runt of the litter and they act accordingly.”

“I'm not a child anymore,” Castiel chuckles. “I think I can hold my own against them... dad.”

Gabriel's eyes light up at that, the smile on his lips larger than Castiel's ever seen. The joy that simple title can cause catches the younger angel by surprise, his curiosity immediately flaring up. Would he feel that good having a child? Would Dean agree to something like that? As an angel as powerful as he is, he could give Dean what it would take to have a child and even remove the bloodline normally passed on. He never told the other this, however, because he didn't know how it would be taken. In order to keep from passing the bloodline... Dean would have to give birth.

The very thought unnerves him, the image of the hunter completely blowing up in a nuclear fit settling nicely in his brain. His features pale in the face of it. His thoughts must be awfully obvious, as Gabriel sends him a pitying look and pats him on the back.

“This isn't going to be a picnic, Cas,” he sighs. “I have a feeling this reunion is going to be much like the one in Heaven... chaotic as all fuck. Now is a good time to back out, because we won't get the chance after.”

“Try telling that to our mates, they'll make us go either way,” Castiel comments with a small smile.

“Truer words have never been spoken.”

Together they turn back toward the bunker and vanish, reappearing in the library in hopes of seeing the two Winchesters. They get one... Sam. He's curled up on the leather couch with a thick tome, his eyes darting up when they enter. Slowly he curls in tighter on himself, his eyes gazing mistrustfully upon Gabriel after their last tryst.

Castiel looks around for Dean cautiously, sending out his mind along their link to locate his presence. For a moment he's afraid the other skipped out the way he did last time. Thankfully, however, he finds the hunter's presence within his bedroom. He excuses himself quietly, making his way toward his mate.

The hallway is so still he swears he could hear the scurry of a mouse should they have one. Castiel stops outside Dean's room, hesitating only a moment before looking in. The hunter has stripped down to his boxers, not even managing to crawl beneath the blankets before passing out. His body is splayed out on its stomach, face buried in the pillow as he snoozes, and Castiel can't help smiling softly at the sight. He steps closer to the bed. Once he's right up next to the mattress, he reaches out and sets a hand at the base of Dean's spine. That warm touch is drawn up along the hunter's back, a soft moan drifting from his lips even in sleeping.

“Mm... Cas,” Dean murmurs as a vivid green eye peeks open. “Come to lay with me, tiger?”

“No, my light,” Castiel smiles. “I'm just checking on you. Gabriel and I have talked... we've decided you and Sam will make us go anyway, so we'll be leaving for Neflheim as soon as possible. That means we'll have to teach you how to move between worlds like us.”

“Between worlds?”

“Between Earth, Heaven, Hell, Purgatory and all worlds of old... like Neflheim and Valhala. Though... I wouldn't recommend visiting any without an invitation.”

There's a soft hum from the hunter, his eyes distant and hazy. Castiel can feel the energy he normally associates with Dean crackle in arousal, their bond tugging viciously at his heart. He wants nothing more than to shed their clothes and sink into his mate. The exhaustion on Dean's face, however, is difficult to ignore. Though that emerald gaze is more than inviting, he knows the hunter needs sleep.

With a slight disappointment, Castiel pulls off his clothes. As he strips down to his boxers, he glides toward the headboard. Dean grins wide and makes some room. His mind is on his libido, yet his mate's is on his well-being. Castiel lies down and pulls Dean to him. Though the hunter attempts to turn toward him, the brunette won't allow it yet. He pulls the blanket from underneath them, covering his lover's body carefully.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks huskily.

“You need sleep,” Castiel answers. “I can either lie here with you, or I can leave. Either way, you're going to sleep and nothing more.”

He could swear the hunter spared him a pout, yet can't be for certain with Dean's back to him. Though he starts out spooning with the green-eyed male, Dean eventually manages to turn around. A head of short brown locks lies on the angel's chest, one of his hands playing within the silken strands, and Dean's arm drapes over his waist. The soft even breathing tells Castiel his mate is asleep.

For the first time since he managed to get his Grace back, Castiel wishes he could follow his love into the arms of sleep. His mind is chaotic with thoughts on the upcoming reunion. Being the 'runt' in a family of warriors isn't all it's cracked up to be, as the older boys constantly pick on him. They feel their power is far greater than Castiel's and they use the personality given by Loki and a giantess mother for all they're worth, knowing Castiel's angelic patience and love won't allow him to strike back. If only they knew what he's been up to these past years.

Hel is an angel compared to her brothers, especially Fenrir. The canine male is quite vicious toward Castiel, harming him to the point of blood and broken bones on countless occasions. He also has a horrid tendency to take things away from the angel that he knows are precious to him. Though power pulses in his veins like never before, Castiel fears it's not enough to stop Fenrir from taking Dean. It's a fear that will never be spoken, just buried until it comes to pass... or is stomped out of existence.

The morning sun rises on Dean and Sam, the two brothers in the library and quietly scheming against their mates. Gabriel's attempt at keeping them in hasn't worked with Dean and he's yet to find where the shorter hunter escaped from. Just as they're about to head that way, they catch footsteps getting closer. Hastily, the two separate and grab something to busy themselves.

Though they try to appear nonchalant, Gabriel and Castiel already know something is off. For one... the book Sam is reading is upside down. For another... Dean is _holding_ a book. They say nothing about it, instead finding a seat near the two. It's time for a lesson, one that should come in handy during all types of situations. For now, however, the Winchesters need to learn it in case they're separated from their mates in Neflheim. Gabriel isn't taking any chances, not with Sam, and he's preparing for any problem he can think of.

“Come on, Dean, you need to try harder!” the archangel frowns after hour four passes. “What the hell do you plan on doing should you get separated from us? How the fuck do you think you're gonna survive in Neflheim?”

“Damn it, Gabriel, I'm fucking trying! Okay?” he snaps. “This is a lot harder than it looks!”

“Sam can nearly do it without any guidance, why the hell are you so much harder to teach?”

Castiel is quick to push Gabriel out of the room, mumbling about 'pushy brothers' and 'complicated techniques'. Once he's positive Gabriel and Sam are gone, the angel turns back to a frustrated Dean.

The room is quiet now, once filled with the archangel's brand of pester-filled teachings. He knows very well how irritating Gabriel's attempts at teaching can be. He can remember sitting in the same spot for hours on end trying to heal a puppy, not allowed to move until he managed to do it correctly without guidance. It worked, but that brand of teaching does well with him. Dean is different, he needs to be taught in a more soothing manner. Though his father groomed him with a bit of hostility, Castiel has found that Dean responds to that with bullheadedness.

“Come here, Dean,” he remarks softly.

“I can't do this, Cas,” he huffs in an attempt to skip the lesson. “I just can't, it's too hard.”

“Dean, you're Xia's child. Your bloodline holds the ability to do many things, this being one of them. The trick is learning how to apply these talents. Figuring out which method of learning answers best to you will be the hardest part.”

“Cas...”

“Come here, please.”

Dean sighs and does as he's told, surprised when Castiel pulls him flush against his torso and turns him around. The angel wraps his arms around the hunter's waist, setting his chin on Dean's shoulder. His warm breath ghosts over the green-eyed man's ear, sending shivers along his spine. From just that action, Castiel can feel the tension drift from Dean's muscles.

“I want you to close your eyes,” Castiel whispers.

Dean groans at the sound, resisting the urge to lay his head back on Castiel's shoulder. The sound of the other's voice is going straight to his groin, but he forces the memory of their tryst in the shower to the back of his mind. He's supposed to be learning and an erection at this point in time isn't going to help.

He closes his eyes as he's told, the sensation of being wrapped up in Castiel's arms growing at the loss of a sense. The angel's scent of sunshine and storms is heady, making concentration a thing of the past for Dean. Although, he can feel himself focusing on that scent much easier than on the task Gabriel demanded of him.

“I want you to imagine a world of peace and quiet. One where the sun shines brightly and the clouds are closer to the ground,” Castiel comments. “I want you to see in your mind a large open field, a garden with a single man flying a kite in the distance. There's a fountain and many flowers, all painted a different color. The air smells of a summer day... Can you see it?”

“... Yeah,” Dean breathes out. “It seems so nice... so peaceful.”

“Now I want you to see yourself reaching out and touching the water in the fountain.”

Dean sighs, completely at peace with the scene in his head, and reaches a hand toward the fountain he stands beside. Cool liquid trickles around his fingers and he jerks away in surprise, his green eyes opening in shock. He's no longer in the library of their bunker, but standing in the garden Castiel told him to picture.

Not too far from the fountain is the man flying a kite, so quiet and seemingly filled with tranquility. The air is heavy with a familiar energy, one that Dean recalls from his time in Heaven with Sam. He sends a surprised look toward Castiel, who's watching the autistic man with an expression of fondness.

“How did we get here?”

“Your mother's power comes from peace and light, it fills the world with hope,” the angel comments. “You need to have a calm mind and a relaxed body to use it... something you rarely seem to have. I merely provided you with the proper situation, you did the rest.”

“So... All I have to do is imagine the place I want to go and I'm there,” Dean clarifies.

“Yes. The type of power you and Sam possess comes from the mind, from your imagination,” Castiel smiles proudly. “Whatever you think, if you want it badly enough, you can breathe life into.”

“... How do I get back?” Dean wonders after a pause.

“That, my light, I'll leave up to you,” the angel states with an air of mischief.

Sam is going out of his mind, his search for Dean bringing up nothing... not even the angel that watches over him. Gabriel doesn't seem worried, which only makes Sam _more_ anxious. He paces the length of the library, tugging at his long hair in frustration. If Dean is missing, he's likely not in the bunker, and if he's not in the bunker... he's more often than not in trouble. The last thing they need at this moment in time is for the shorter hunter to get himself killed... or worse... captured!

The pacing doesn't go unnoticed, the trickster following Sam's progress with his eyes. The book in his lap, left open so it appears he's reading, stays untouched. It's something the hunter doesn't managed to catch onto for quite some time. When he finally does, he stills in his movement.

“Do you know where Dean is?” Sam wonders.

“Of course, he's in Heaven.”

“... Oh my god, he's dead!”

“Don't be so dramatic, baby,” Gabriel smirks. “Castiel took over his lessons and apparently he knows how to get through to Dean far better than myself. I chose to teach you with Purgatory as your destination, but Castiel chose Heaven as Dean's.”

Before Sam can say anything more, Dean and Castiel appear in the library. The former looks so proud of himself, a huge grin Sam's rarely seen without a dead target on his lips. Sam steps forward, the relief so deep within him he's nearly dizzy with it. His brother, however, turns to embrace Castiel before he's strangled in Sam's own arms.

“Are you fucking insane? I was worried sick!” Sam shouts. “I couldn't find you! I didn't know where the hell you went, and then Gabriel says you're in Heaven! What the hell was I supposed to think about that? I thought you were dead!”

“I'm sorry, Sammy,” Dean frowns. “I would've been here sooner, but finding a calm and relaxing atmosphere is fucking hard. I kept on thinking how worried you'd be, how I might never get home again, how dangerous going to Neflheim is going to be, and things just kept building up! I had a fucking panic attack! I'm lucky Castiel mastered the art of meditation, or I'd _still_ be up there hyperventilating.”

“Next time leave a note!”

Dean relents with a sheepish smile, scratching at the back of his head. There was no intent to make the other worry, even Castiel hadn't thought about that. The whole point of the exercise was to open the hunters' ability to move at will. Now that they've managed it once, it should come fairly easy with each use. Gabriel smirks at the prospect of them being fast learners, yet it doesn't last long. It dies at the memory of _why_ they need to learn. The time between then and their trip to Neflheim has been drastically cut.

The night is long and filled with sleeplessness. Gabriel lies with Sam down the hall, their room finally quiet after what seemed hours of a thumping headboard. It may have been audible, yet not much, and Dean is thankful the rooms are nearly soundproof... though disappointed they're not completely so.

Castiel isn't in bed with him yet, the other having decided to take a long walk to clear his head. Through their bond Dean could feel his anxiety; it was so strong it gave _him_ a nauseous stomach. No more words had to be shared, the angel sensing Dean's urge to practically shove him out of the room. Now that he's been gone nearly half an hour, the hunter is rethinking that decision.

He's about to search out his better half, when he hears footsteps in the hallway. It isn't much longer that Castiel is walking into the room silently. There's a rustle of cloth as he takes off his clothes and walks to the bed. The brunette is far too tired to throw them in a laundry basket. When he sits down on his side of the bed, a random thought of having to get a bigger one flitting through his mind, Castiel notices that Dean is still awake.

“I thought you'd be asleep by now,” he admits quietly.

“I couldn't sleep without you,” comes the sheepish response. “How did your walk go? Did you manage to clear your head enough?”

“Well enough I think. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you sleep, Dean.”

“You're here now, that's all that matters.”

The smile given to him tugs at his heartstrings, leaving an elated feeling in its wake. When he draws the blanket over himself, Dean snuggles up to his side and Castiel realizes the other is naked. There's a flutter in his chest at the thought, warmth pooling in his stomach as his sex hardens. The hunter notes the change almost immediately.

“Will you be fucking me this time, tiger?” Dean purrs. “Or are you going to blow me off again... and not in the literal sense.”

“I hate to say this, Dean, I really do,” the angel sighs. “But I'm in no mood to give you the attention and pleasure you deserve. Besides, you need rest after all that practice. You wore yourself out.”

Though his answer is a frustrated groan, the hunter gives in without much more fuss. Even their mating bond is telling him he needs sleep. He's gathered against Castiel, held comfortably within his embrace, and soon his eye lids are feeling heavy. The angel doesn't sleep, however the rhythm of his heartbeat is slowly lulling the green-eyed man into slumber.

The first sound Dean hears in the morning is clanging from the kitchen, the next being a tired groan from Castiel. The angel is still entangled with Dean, neither ready to meet the day yet. Sam's voice drifts through the hall. From the harsh tones he's not alone in the room... and Gabriel is dangerously close to getting beat over the head with a frying pan. Dean, despite himself, grins toothily at the very thought.

“We should get up,” Castiel mumbles.

“You're eyes aren't even open,” Dean snorts. “I'm not about to move anyway... unless Sam suddenly decides to drop his 'mr. nice guy' act and beat the shit out of Gabriel. I'd pay good money to see that.”

“Gabriel would back off before he pushed Sam that far.”

There's a loud thwack echoing down the hall from the kitchen. Dean sits up quickly at the sound of Gabriel shouting in pain, Sam's voice chiding him afterward. He glances back at Castiel, who's eyes are wide open in surprise now.

“... Apparently I gave him too much credit,” the angel murmurs.

“Now _that's_ worth getting up for!”

Castiel sighs as Dean rolls over him to get out of bed, the slight weight upon him nothing compared to what it should be. As the green-eyed hunter rummages around for some clothes, he glances back at his mate. The angel hasn't moved more than to turn his head. Those blue eyes are pinned to the naked male, darkening slightly with want.

With a saucy wink, Dean pulls a shirt over his head and walks out of the room. It's the fastest he's ever gotten dressed in his life. Castiel sighs and finally pulls himself from the warm bed, heading over to the closet where Gabriel has filled half for the angel. The clothes may be Gabriel's way of keeping Castiel young in his eyes, but they're actually quite comfortable and the younger angel doesn't mind them. He digs out a pair of black jeans and a band tee shirt, grabbing a zip up hoodie and pulling on some sneakers.

Dean is sitting at the kitchen island with a huge grin on his face, watching the increasingly violent interaction between Sam and Gabriel. His younger brother is in no mood to play today, though the archangel is definitely more ornery than usual, and it fills his heart with sadistic joy at their disagreement.

“I swear, Gabriel, if you touch me again I'll fucking feed you this spatula!” Sam shouts.

“But... I just want to hold my lover,” the trickster whines. “Is that so wrong?”

“It is when your ulterior motive is to cop a feel!”

“... Well... that's your fault, not mine.”

That grin on Dean's face grows larger when Sam takes a swing at the trickster. Castiel shakes his head, sitting beside the other. Besides the arguing couple across the way, it's very quiet within the kitchen. There's an air of anxiousness, which is most likely the cause of Gabriel's obnoxious behavior, and the younger angel knows it's because of their plans for today. Today is the day they head to Neflheim.

Nerves are tearing up the group, it's easy to see, and Dean feels as though he's the only one that doesn't want to ditch all their responsibilities and hide beneath their beds. It's a strange sensation, however he's always been the one ready to run head first into trouble. He doesn't have the patience to sit and wait for it to find him, and he knows without a doubt it'll find him.

“Gabriel, damn it! I said leave me alone!” Sam shouts.

“Okay, that's enough,” Dean sighs. “This isn't enjoyable anymore, you're purposely not hitting him in the places that count... makes me think you're enjoying all this attention.”

“I am not!”

“Whatever, dude. Look, we're all nervous about the trip today. There's no need to aggravate each other when we'll get plenty of that from whatever the hell we come up against there, okay? I say we eat breakfast, suit up, and get the hell out of dodge. The faster we get there, the faster we get back. Got it?”

There's no answer to his outburst, merely surprised stares. It isn't often Dean decides to look upon things logically. If anything, the older hunter indulges in the illogical if only to keep his mind on work. With his frustration steadily growing thanks to the feeling of the others', Dean is about ready to be done with all this. He glances over at Castiel, a soft look glazing his green eyes. This needs to be over with, if only for Castiel's sake.

After breakfast, Gabriel and Castiel are forced to wait for the Winchesters to finish getting ready. Sam is still in his pajamas and Dean doesn't go anywhere without a weapon of some kind. It takes a good half an hour before they're back in the library and ready to go. With a deep breath, mostly to calm their nerves, the hunters close their eyes and let their angels take hold of them. They don't know what Neflheim looks like, so their mates will take them there... it'll be up to them to get home should they get separated.


	22. Reunion in Neflheim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crazy ensues when the group is forced to go to Helheim for Hel's family reunion. The hunters, new to the godly realm, find it different from the Hell they've gone to... though only just. The basic principles are the same. Worried he'll lose Dean to his older brother, Cas is forced to act the powerful alpha in order to keep Dean soothed in the face of such darkness. Are his fears unfounded, or will he truly be no match for Fenrir?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my wonderful readers! I hope you're all ready for the next update, because I'm about to give it to you XD I decided to start writing the summaries for the chapters, mainly so I don't throw everything into the notes ^^; I'm only trying it out, so it may not stick... I may also go back and write summaries for the other chapters as well. Not sure yet, I'm just going where my wistful mind takes me ;p

When next they open their eyes, their vision is clouded by a thick mist. Their warm breath plumes upon the air in little clouds, shivers wracking their spines at the cold. All around them is ice. Every river is frozen, all the ground is coated in the thick layers, and the brothers immediately glower in Gabriel's direction.

“Whoops,” the trickster murmurs sheepishly. “Forgot how cold this place was.”

“Thanks a lot, jackass!” Dean snaps. “We're not dressed for this weather! If my balls freeze and fall off, I'm gonna kill your ass!”

“Don't be so dramatic, I'll just get you guys a couple coats.”

He snaps his fingers and the hunters are suddenly wearing heavy winter coats. It's not enough to keep out all the cold, but it does keep the majority of it at bay. Gabriel pulls Sam close to himself, one arm wrapped around his waist. They start walking, Dean followng... but Castiel lingers behind. Before his fear was only a thought, but now that they're within Neflheim he can't help but realize the reality of it. If he's not careful, if he's not strong enough, Fenrir will take Dean away from him.

His heart hammers in his chest, eyes glued to the icy ground as his brows wrinkle in worry. When a hand drops onto his shoulder, he jumps at the unexpected touch. Dean is standing before him, eyes mirroring the anxiety within Castiel's.

“Are you okay?” he wonders.

“... Yes, I'm fine,” the angel states.

“... Look, man, I understand you're nervous as all hell about this, but... I'm only okay because I know you're a strong alpha,” Dean sighs out. “I know you won't let anything happen to me. You're not acting okay, though, and... I'm starting to get worried.”

“It's Fenrir,” Castiel admits quietly. “He is much worse than my other brother. He has a habit of taking things I care for from me, I'm afraid he'll attempt taking you.”

“I'd like to see him try,” Dean snorts. “I'll fuck him up. Letting _you_ handle him would probably be _merciful_.”

The angel chuckles, gripping the back of Dean's head and pulling him close until their foreheads touch. Though he's still worried, he manages to cover it in a confidence he certainly doesn't feel... not here. Once those green orbs shine with content and a sense of refuge, Castiel gently pushes Dean to follow their siblings.

It's difficult to walk through Neflheim, that's the first thing that the Winchester's learn. Even Castiel and Gabriel are frequently slipping on the ice. After only around fifteen minutes, Dean sits down with a huff. He's already fallen around three times, probably has a bruise on his ass the size of Sam's shoe... mainly because they fell at the same time and Sam's shoe nearly went up said ass. The others are quick to note he's down, their eyes turning in question.

“That's it, I'm done,” Dean bristles. “I'm freezing, I'm sore, and I can't stand the constant falling! This is twenty times worse than going on a fucking hunt, man!”

“I'm sure we're almost there, Dean,” Sam says placating. “Once we reach wherever it is we're going, you can sit down and relax.”

“No way! I can barely sit now without your damn Sasquatch sized foot print throbbing!”

“I said I was sorry, damn it!”

Gabriel sighs and sits down as well, gesturing for Castiel to follow suit. This might take a while and they can use the rest. He watches as Sam and Dean argue, both growing increasingly frustrated with the whole situation. Finally, Dean just clams up. It isn't often he reverts to using the silent treatment, however when he does it's nearly as infuriating as him talking.

“You're so damn childish sometimes!” Sam snaps. “How is you throwing a temper tantrum helping us, please tell me. I would love to know.”

“Shut up, Sammy! I'm trying to concentrate!” Dean hisses out.

“What for? Can't think of good comeback?”

Dean's emerald gaze lays a heavy glare on Sam, silencing the younger Winchester effectively. Once he's sure no one will speak again, he closes his eyes tight and takes a deep breath. His lesson on meditation was a crash course, which involved him sitting on Castiel's lap anxiously. Now that he's on his own, it's a bit harder to focus on clearing his mind and calming his heart.

The wind howls around them, kicking up snow and pressing against the group harshly. Sam shivers and sits beside Gabriel. He scoots as close as possible, hoping to find some relief from the cold within the angel's embrace. He watches as Dean's brow dips in concentration, a soft glow of gold shining off his skin.

“Whoa,” Sam murmurs. “What the hell's going on?”

“... Dean is attempting to use his abilities,” the other sighs. “After all that 'hunters first' shit, he's the first one to break.”

“It's not his fault, Ga... dad,” Castiel remarks reluctantly. “Dean's blood is of the sun, he needs warmth and this place has none. There's no way he could've known his bloodline would alter how his body reacts to certain temperatures.”

There's movement along the ground, like the ice is drawn toward the hunter and reaching to capture him. Sam sucks in a sharp breath, reaching for his brother before his wrist is caught. Gabriel is holding him back, eyes watching all this intensely.

The ice coats the bottoms of Dean's shoes, spiking out on the bottoms like cleats. Finally, vivid green gazes upon the others. There's something about the pools that seems so unlike the older hunter. A serenity that swirls within them, pulling him in a trance-like state, his lids half mast and his expression almost dreamy. Dean slowly drops his gaze, the ice sliding along the ground to cover Sam's shoes before repeating the action for the angels.

“Great thinking, Deano!” Gabriel grins widely. “Should've thought of that when we first got here.”

“And you should've thought to tell us to wear warmer clothes,” the brunette grumbles. “Let's get going, I'm freezing my ass off.”

“Dean, if you can concentrate well enough to create something... even something so small... you should be able to control your body temperature,” Castiel offers.

“No thanks, I'll just hope we don't stay long,” Dean mumbles. “All I did was make a few pairs of cleats from ice and I'm exhausted... and I have a major headache. If I have to do something that continuous, I just might pass out before we get there.”

Castiel stands and helps Dean to his feet. He's only been here a few times as a cherub, but he's sure they aren't far from Helheim... Hel's kingdom of death. He's not sure why Gabriel couldn't take them a bit closer, but perhaps it's because he's trying to prolong their arrival.

By the time they reach a tall hill in the landscape, Dean is huddled so closely to Castiel they're practically stepping on each others' feet. His teeth are gritted to keep them from chattering. They step up to the summit, a steep drop leads to a rather wide valley. The ice doesn't seem to travel further than the crest of the hill they stand upon. Down below is a stretch of black grass, gnarled trees with gray bark littering the place. There's a village just past some farmland, the crops grown there withered and dead. Despite the lack of life in the fields, they're still filled with farmers trying restlessly to draw life into the land of the dead.

There's a loud screeching from above, their eyes darting upward to black forms circling the bodies below. One of them dives toward a farmer, claws tearing into their flesh. Their cries of agony echo in the valley, the other farmers ignoring them as they continue to tend the crops. With a flap of large bat-like wings, the creature drifts back up to join the others of its kind.

“Okay,” Dean mutters. “This is the absolute _worst_ place for a hunter to come... let's go home.”

“We already made it this far, Dean,” Sam sighs. “Let's just get this over with. How do we get down there, Ga... mmph!”

“Loki,” he hisses with his hand over Sam's mouth. “You can't call me that down here, I'm a norse god not an angel.”

“Whatever, how do we get the fuck down there?” Dean huffs.

“Well, normally one jumps. I wouldn't recommend that, though, considering you're not of the undead population,” the trickster comments sarcastically. “But, hey, who am I to stop you. Go right ahead and jump in.”

Castiel sighs and pulls Dean back, placing himself between Gabriel and his mate. He's not afraid of getting hit by either, however this close to the edge of a cliff is no place for them to start swinging. Sam seems to be thinking the same, as he pulls Gabriel further from his older brother.

Their attention is drawn back to the village at the sound of screaming. Flames flash to life, casting eerie shadows over the dirt streets and the other houses. Not even that draws the farmers from their task. Dean studies the layout of the village, mostly hoping to get a good view for future use in navigation. It's built in a crescent shape, a tall crop of mountains jutting from the ground behind it. Something in the face of the mountain, the middle of the village, glints in the overly bright sunlight. It's only made brighter by the reflective surface of the ice and snow.

Though the houses along the outside edge of the village are rundown and seem to be ignited on a daily basis, the ones closer to the glinting mountain are impressive and kept tidy. He's almost positive they house the wealthy dead. There's a town square at the center, lain right before the shimmering surface, and he can just make out a fountain and a statue. He closes his eyes and sighs, the turmoil quickly lashing within his mind once more. Sam is near him, blue eyes glazed over in a deep thought.

“There's a pathway,” he mutters. “It's down to the right and leads to a tunnel.”

“Fun,” Dean remarks. “Let's get going.”

Gabriel grasps Sam's hand tightly, his eyes on Castiel as though he were a mother hawk watching her only fledgling, and Dean begins to wonder just how much the trickster favored his little cherub. It certainly would've affected how the other kids treated Castiel.

The path isn't far, or so it seems, and when they get there... Dean is turning around. There are large pillars that look like dragon teeth lining the pathway, piles of snow built up around them. Discarded and forgotten weapons litter the area, a large opening at the end of the way. It's lined by two strong pillars of bluish ice, each holding up another that lies over the top. The opening is dark and desolate, a black hole looking to suck up the life of any entering.

Castiel sighs and pulls Dean back to his side, following Gabriel's lead as he heads toward it with Sam. The taller hunter gasps and trips, landing face first in the cold snow. Dean can't help but laugh at him. In retaliation, Sam grabs a huge snow-covered rock and tosses it. Without thinking, the older hunter catches it. Snow bursts forth in a cold shower, covering his face and neck... but he's still holding something. He opens green eyes to stare into the empty sockets of a skull. He's not ashamed to admit he screamed like a little girl at that point... okay, maybe he's a little ashamed to admit it.

“Dean, what the fuck was that?” Sam laughs.

“Dude, it's not funny! You threw a fucking skull at me!”

“What?”

He throws it back and Sam immediately yelps, leaping out of the way. His foot hits a patch of ice and he's going down again, but this time he's knocking into Gabriel. Thankfully, the angel-turned-trickster is impossible to move at the moment. He catches his mate and rights him, sighing with an exasperated glare toward Dean. They don't have time for this and it's beginning to get colder around them.

Carefully, after gathering a bickering Dean and Sam, the angels lead their mates along the path. Though Sam is curiously inching further ahead of the trickster he's bound to, it escapes no one's notice how Dean strays closer to Castiel. He doesn't seem to realize it himself and the other three aren't about to point it out. Well... Gabriel sure as hell wants to, but if he does Sam will make him sleep on the couch for a week. So says the taller male's thoughts.

As they pass through the tunnel, they find themselves stepping into scorching sunlight. Dean shields his eyes, a relieved sigh escaping his lips at the heat. He looks down and watches as the ice melts from his shoes like ice cream in the summer. Sam isn't as happy about the heat as his brother is, nearly shrinking away the minute the light touches his skin. Much like Dean, Sam's bloodline reacts differently to temperature changes as well and prefers the cold rather than the hot. A desert to him is just asking to be boiled to death.

“What's the matter, Sammy?” Dean wonders curiously. “Too hot for you to handle?”

“It's not funny, Dean.”

“Yeah, kind of like throwing a fucking skull in a snowball wasn't funny, right?”

“Okay, that was a jerk move,” Sam sighs. “But it's not like I _knew_ there was a damn skull in it.”

The more the older brother pokes fun at the younger, the more Sam's body grows cool without his notice. The green-eyed hunter smirks knowingly, helping regulate his brother's temperature as they continue their walk. It doesn't take long for Sam and Gabriel to realize what he's doing, the younger a bit miffed he'll have to thank him for picking on him later. It's something a younger brother never wants to face.

They head through the farmlands, watching the farmers as they struggle to grow crops no one will eat. The black creatures overhead are a sick imitation of vultures. As Castiel walks beneath one, tiny droplets of a thick liquid drip around him. Dean makes a face and watches as another flap of huge wings flings more red droplets everywhere. Blood soaks those black feathers. A couple swoop down and veer away at the last minute upon noting these four aren't dead... and one is Loki. It's close enough, however, to see the grin of sharp teeth within long beaks.

“What the hell are those things?” Sam asks.

“My little girl's pets,” Gabriel waves off. “They weren't always like that, they're actually demonic souls gifted to her by the last king of hell... she had a couple souls he wanted and her prices are quite steep. Anyway, she had them transformed into those things.”

“Sick,” Dean mutters. “What's the point of them?”

“These farmers are the worst of the souls here,” Castiel murmurs softly. “Hel rules over those that die of sickness or old age. Anyone that doesn't have a heroic death. The worst of the souls are punished here in the fields, forced to grow healthy crops in dead soil and eaten hourly by the demonic birds. In the outer village, the bad souls reside. They're punished by daily massacres by Hel's toughest men. Any children, elderly, or good souls live in the inner village. They're protected by Hel.”

Sam and Dean frown as the screams of the farmers start up. The demon birds are diving, choosing a farmer and ripping into their flesh with those fangs. The green-eyed hunter covers his ears, his teeth gritting at the noise muffled by his hands. Even though he's trying like hell to keep it out, those screams of agony are rising.

“We have to get Dean out of here,” Castiel calls over the shouting. “Their pain is his pain!”

“Okay, okay. Don't flip out, Cas,” Gabriel waves off. “I suppose we should've timed this better. Just pick him up and let's hurry. Come on, Sam, we're running.”

Sam is watching it all happen in a trance, torn between rushing out to save them and staying put to enjoy their misery. The realization does little to make him feel good about his bloodline. He can feel Gabriel's hand wrap around his own, tugging him forward in determination. He follows the archangel blindly, vaguely noting that Dean is now huddled in Castiel's arms bridal-style.

Past the fields is the outer village, where the rundown houses line the crescent pattern. They're mud and brick, thatched roofs of hay, and uneven fences that are nothing better than twigs. Some are still burning, others smoking, and still others reforming themselves to be torn down tomorrow. They carefully step through the rough looking streets. They have a straight shot to the village center and the glistening mountain. As they're nearly to the drastic difference that creates the border of good and bad, a hulking figure moves into view. They're dressed in black armor, their form muscled and their face hidden in darkness... aside from their glowing red eyes. They turn, raising a large blade soaked in blood.

“How dare you!” Gabriel growls out. “I've been invited here by my daughter and you have the nerve to threaten me? Let alone her younger brother and our mates! I should kill you myself!”

“Loki?” a distorted voice asks hesitantly. “I... I didn't recognize you. And... Castiel is so much older than last he was here. I humbly apologize, my lord. I'll escort you the rest of the way to the palace, please... forgive me.”

“... I don't know...”

“Loki, don't be such an ass,” Sam huffs. “I've been through enough as it is and we haven't even started the damn reunion, I certainly don't need to watch you spill another's blood! Besides, Dean's still rattled from the fields. I think it best to just get him inside as quickly as possible.”

“... You're forgiven,” the trickster grumbles petulantly. “But you'd better grovel at my mate's feet for that, I certainly would've rather killed you.”

The knight, for that's the only thing he could be... a dark knight... nods eagerly. He thanks Sam profusely as he backs up toward the mountain. Leading them into the inner village and the perfectly kept houses with painted fences. The streets are littered with children playing, the knight quickly ushering a few away from the border. Apparently, peer pressure is the same in the afterlife as it is in life.

The village square is beautiful... in a sick way. The fountain of Hel is spewing blood into the sky only for it to rain back down, the ivory immaculate aside from the red rivulets. There are black roses lining the tiles carefully placed, the paths meeting on three sides. On the fourth is a glass archway much like that of the tunnel. The ivory tiles stretch from the village center to the mountain, which has a large area made of glass... the castle is built into the mountain face.

“Dude,” Dean murmurs besides Castiel. “Now _that's_ fucking awesome.”

“Welcome to Lady Hel's castle,” the knight remarks with a flourish of his arm. “Come, I'm sure she's quite eager for your arrival.”

Despite being on his own two feet and talking again, Dean is still shivering from the field scare. His heart is aching for those lost souls, hammering in his chest in an attempt to escape and run off. Castiel is close to him, allowing him all the comfort he asks for. He would wrap him in his arms, but he knows Dean isn't much for public displays.

When the green-eyed hunter moves over until their shoulders bump, Castiel runs his fingers along the back of Dean's hand. He jumps at the touch, quickly entwining their fingers. It's allowed and the angel can't help the minute smile on his lips. They step past the threshold and look on in awe. The first room is a huge hall with double stairways curving to the second floor. Everything is so elegant and beautiful... like a winter castle. The furniture is in snowy white, the carpets in blood red, and there's a huge chandelier overhead. Their escort leads them to the second floor, the hunters immediately searching out any quick escape routes... a habit born from years of training. Two more stairways lead to a third floor.

“This is the ballroom,” the knight remarks. “It's also our lady's throne room. Everyone should be waiting in there for you, please enjoy yourselves.”

“Thank you for the escort,” Sam offers with a glare Gabriel's way. “I really appreciate it.”

“You're very welcome.”

The knight leaves and Gabriel throws open the doors to the ballroom. It's a long stretch of thick glass, a tiered chandelier hanging above, and in the distance a set of stairs leads up to a dark throne. All chatter that sounded muffled beyond the door suddenly stops. The feeling of many eyes turns onto the trickster in question... and a bit in shock. It's quite obvious Gabriel's created quite the name for himself.

Castiel heaves a long suffering sigh beside Dean, telling the hunters he'd rather be back in Purgatory surrounded by Leviathans than here. It doesn't say much for his godly family. Gabriel's golden eyes sweep over the entirety of the room, relief washing over them at the absence of his ex. One arm wraps around Sam's waist, much to the taller man's annoyance, and he reaches behind him to drag Castiel closer as well.

The angel doesn't resist getting pulled into the room, yet manages to keep hold of Dean. With one arm slung around Castiel and the other around Sam, Gabriel grins at those present with a cocky expression even Sam wants to beat off his face.

“Where are my precious children?” he asks loudly.

“Loki,” a tall man remarks as he steps closer. “I can't believe it, I didn't think you'd ever show your face among us again.”

“Why not? It's such a beautiful face,” Gabriel frowns teasingly. “Not like yours of course, all sexy male model slash body builder, but... hey, I've got character.”

He isn't wrong. The man before them has blonde hair a bit past his shoulders and a muscular body, his blue eyes so brilliant they nearly put Castiel's to shame. He's wearing chest armor and bracers, a red cape, and has a large hammer at his hip. It's easy to tell he's Thor, Loki's brother. The first time they met him, though, he was an elderly man in glasses. That was during an auction where Kevin and the angel tablet were the prize objects. He should be dead, but apparently things worked out much better for him than they had first thought. Odin, a man Sam and Dean have encountered once before, is by the refreshment table with Hel. She doesn't look any different now than she did at the diner... just has a dressier gothic outfit on.

She has a huge grin on her face, full of mischief that would make her daddy proud. It isn't hard to see she's trying to rile everyone. Fortunately for them, a tall thin woman with a joyful smile begins to head toward them. Her movements are fluid and she seems to float. She's wearing silken robes and heels, her hair curly and red. It's pulled back into a neat little bun, some of it hanging in a river down to her waist. Sam leans closer to Dean and whispers in his ear, telling him her name is Frigga and she's Thor's and Loki's mother. Well... Loki's adopted mother.

“Loki!” she greets with arms spread wide. “Oh, my sweet boy! How have you been? You hardly ever contact me, you promised you would.”

“I'm sorry, mom, I was sort of dead for a few years,” Gabriel comments sheepishly.

“And who, pray tell, has given me back my youngest child?”

“Uh... the sisters of the balance. I was favored with them as well and they had bigger plans for me,” he answers. “Hel invited me to her family reunion thing, thought I should make an appearance and put your mind at ease.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Thor mutters. “And who are these... people.”

“I recognize the hunters, Dean and Sam Winchester,” Odin speaks up. “I know them rather well... they were the thing of godly meetings back during Lucifer's release. I had heard you aligned yourself with them, Loki, but I had thought even _you_ knew better than that.”

Dean stares at the group, mainly at Odin, and can't help the astonished look within his eyes. When Lucifer crashed their meeting, Odin had voted to stay and fight. Unfortunately, only one person got out alive... well, aside from Sam and Dean. Gabriel had helped Kali escape, only to die himself. To see the old man standing before them as though that never happened has Dean speechless.

“You died,” he remarks stupidly.

“And so did Loki,” the old man points out a bit miffed. “Yet here he stands before us! You yourself have died numerous times, so rumor has it, and you stand here just as alive as the rest of us. Is it really so hard for you to digest that I may have friends in high places as well?”

“... Dude, you _are_ the man in high places!” Dean comments. “That's like... Superman needing someone stronger to save him!”

“Just ignore him, his mind is rattled from the fields,” Sam comments with a sigh. “He really shouldn't be so shocked anymore, but... you never really get used to all the twists in our line of work.”

A man with wolfish features emerges from the crowd of Norse gods and goddesses. His hair is raven and slicked back, his skin a healthy tan from being outside all the time, and there's a peek of sharpened canines from his grin. Yellow eyes look Dean up and down, especially how the hunter stays only inches from Castiel's side. Another man is right behind him, slender in build though the first is more lithely muscled. This man has brown hair, long and lanky, and his eyes are reptilian.

“What do you have there, Casandra?” the first says mockingly.

“Fenrir,” Castiel mutters bitterly. “I wish I could say it's good to see you, but my childhood memories of our time together are far from happy.”

“You didn't answer the question, Casandra,” Fenrir grins feral. “Who's this? Why's he so close to you? Did the little angel finally find himself a mate?”

“You didn't tell them?” Castiel calls to Hel over the crowd.

Eyes are bouncing around the large room, eager to see a fight break out and wondering if the group will be tossed or not. A few people in the back have gone back to their conversations, ignoring the commotion for now. Her strange eyes glance over to lock with Castiel's blues. Though they've had their difficulties, of the three siblings Castiel was closer to Hel.

“Believe it or not, I have better things to do than spread gossip,” Hel remarks.

“You told Hel and not us?” the slender man snaps.

“I told her nothing, she just knew, Jormungandr,” the angel sighs in irritation.

“He's kind of cute,” Fenrir murmurs as he reaches for Dean. “A sexy little bitch, aren't you.”

The hunter frowns at the hand reaching for him, grabbing it quickly around the wrist before planting a kick in the man's gut. There's a collective gasp around the room, followed by a snarl of animalistic rage from Fenrir. Sam reaches for Dean, the thought that his older brother hasn't a clue about Norse mythology flashing like a warning beacon in his brain. Gabriel stops him, his eyes alight with curiosity and impish joy.

“How dare you attack an alpha!”

“Dude, I shouldn't have to wear a fucking 'no touching' sign!” Dean snaps. “You know I'm Cas's mate, don't fucking touch! You try it again and I'll neuter your fucking canine ass. Now go play like a good puppy and leave me the hell alone.”

“You insignificant little bitch! I'll kill you!”

Fenrir lunges for Dean, who ducks the attack quickly. Castiel lets loose the breath he was holding, watching as surprised green orbs steel in anger. His worry quickly washes away. When Dean gets angry, things start dying. The hunter dodges another leap, barely missing the claws that tear his shirt.

“Son of a bitch, I love that shirt,” he complains. “You're lucky I don't have a silver bullet, Fido, or I'd send it through your fucking skull.”

“I'm a god, not a werewolf!”

“I don't see the difference. You both have fangs, you both slobber like you have rabies, and you both stink like wet dog.”

The claws come again and this time Jormungandr sticks his foot out to trip the hunter. Dean hits the ground with a pained grunt, turning to see Fenrir over him. He raises a clawed hand and brings it down on the green-eyed man, gasping when Castiel grabs his wrist at the last moment.

In a rage, the wolf god turns on Castiel. His teeth are sharp, snapping viciously at the angel, and his claws find purchase in his arms. Though the brunette is in pain from the claws, he easily holds back the other. His blue eyes are filled with venom and irritation. He breaks Fenrir's hold on him, one hand gripping the taller man's throat. Slowly, he lifts him off his feet. His gaze is heavy with anger, glowing a brilliant blue that mixes well with his Grace.

“That's enough,” he growls out.

“You may think you're stronger, Casandra, but you're not,” Fenrir sneers. “This isn't your power, it's just your incessant need to protect. You probably would've thrown yourself between us had that been necessary, am I right?”

“Anything to protect my mate.”

“That's the problem with you angels,” he spits out. “You never think before acting when you have a mate.”

Castiel opens his mouth to question the other, gasping at the realization he's turned his back on his other brother. Jormungandr wraps an arm around his neck and squeezes, forcing him to drop the other. He pulls the angel away from Fenrir and Dean, grinning treacherously as he nods to his canine sibling.

Fenrir lunges for Dean once more, Gabriel hurrying to stop him... but he's too late. Those claws come down on Dean, the hunter's eyes narrowed in defiance to the end. Castiel jerks his head back, breaking Jormungandr's nose in the process. The second he's free, he tackles Fenrir to the floor. The only damage suffered by Dean is a torn shirt and a few shallow red lines on his chest.

“Getting a bit brave there, Casandra,” Fenrir growls out. “You remember what happened last time you got brave around me, don't you?”

“I'm not afraid of you, brother,” Castiel spits out. “I wasn't then and I'm not now. Don't mistake my neutrality for fear. Just because I never fought back doesn't mean I'm incapable... you just weren't worth it.”

“Whoa... go, Cas,” Dean murmurs.

He gets on his feet quickly, bypassing the serpent with a gushing nosebleed, and finds himself a safe spot between Gabriel and Sam. Safety isn't a word he pairs with the trickster, especially not after Sam's groundhog's day of Dean's death, but right now it's better than nothing. The hunters watch as Fenrir swipes at Castiel, the angel glaring him down as he inches out of the way.

The brunette ducks a punch, blocks a kick, and rolls into the older man's next swing. Just as he gets close enough to Fenrir, he throws his elbow back into the man's stomach. Fenrir grunts in pain, bending over enough for the angel to toss him over his shoulder. There's a loud thump as his body hits the glass floor, Dean and Sam wincing as they wait for the cracks to spread. Apparently, a goddess's abode is made of much stronger stuff than a typical house. Fenrir gets to his feet again, crouched over aggressively although Castiel is standing as he normally would. Sometimes Dean wonders if he even knows the concept of 'defense'.

Just as the wolf darts forward again, Castiel drawing back a fist to hit him, Odin steps between the quarreling siblings. Fenrir slides to a stop inches from the elderly male, sending a glare toward Castiel as the angel drops into his relaxed stance once more.

“Loki, get your children under control!” he snaps. “This is a family reunion, not a death match between siblings! If they can't calm down and behave, I'll have to lock them up until this is over! And _you_ , Fenrir, you know how precious a bond with a mate is. How dare you challenge Castiel for one _after_ he's marked them! If you wanted Dean, you should've challenged him before.”

“But...”

“No buts! Leave the hunter alone! _He's_ more likely to kill you than Castiel is,” Odin grumbles.

Dean hurries forward, setting a hand on Castiel's shoulder and turning him. Green eyes quickly assess any damage, relief filling them when he sees there's none. His own injuries have already healed and he's really tempted to restore his shirt as well. Something tells him announcing to the godly world that he's the child of Xia would be a _very_ bad move.

Gabriel and Sam join them, the trickster snapping his fingers to restore the band tee and hide the evidence of Dean's bloodline. Should someone ask, however, he'll simply say he healed him when everyone was busy watching the fight. His hand was on the hunter's shoulder, after all, it's not that difficult to believe.

“Well... this is going much better than I thought!” he remarks jovially.

“We seriously need to rehash your definition of 'family',” Sam mutters.

The trickster shakes off the remark, clapping Castiel on the back proudly. Ever since he brought the angel into his double life as his son, there wasn't a moment his other children didn't pick on him. To see the other finally fighting back fills him with the pride of a trickster. Somewhere, somehow, he managed to raise an angel to be the child of Loki. With a huge grin worthy of his Norse identity, he turns toward the crowd and slings an arm around Sam's waist. This is going to be one hell of a reunion.


	23. A Hound, A Weapon, and A New Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reunion continues and Fenrir is getting a bit too stalkerish for Dean's tastes. Though he wants nothing more than to put the god in his place, he can't do that with Cas hovering. Every attempt at getting to the hunter is shut down... until Fenrir dares to challenge Cas for Dean. After a time, Hel pulls the group aside to give them the weapon they seek. With the weapon in their possession, the group heads back to the bunker for the night. Dean, however, finds his emasculating need for his mate is becoming an addiction... one Gabriel warns Cas not to indulge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my wonderful readers! XD I just thought you'd all like to know, this fic has 30 chapters. As such, you get 7 more updates before it's all over =( I know, it's so sad T^T But that's okay, because I'm working on 2 more fics, just for you XD I also have 5 fics that aren't even started! All for the Supernatural fandom =D

Fenrir is absolutely incorrigible, staying only feet from Dean. The hunter is getting increasingly pissed off and it's easy to see. Not to mention his ill mood is beginning to affect Castiel. The normally calm and peaceful angel is starting to get snappish and irritable. Sam is enjoying himself, which is a surprise. He's such a nerd that he's already studied all of Norse, Greek, Roman, and Egyptian mythology. There's probably a whole hell of a lot more, but Dean stopped listening around that time. He never took Sam's nerd talk well, it makes him nauseous.

Hel is leaning against the table next to Dean, her eyes smoldering as she watches her brother inch closer. She meant to cause trouble, no reunion is complete without a bit of drama, but she didn't tell Fenrir about Dean for a reason... the hunter is in much safer hands with Castiel. She would never admit it to the Winchesters, or anyone really, but she's a big fan of the two. After all, there aren't many others that can cheat Death like they can.

“What the hell's wrong with him!” Dean snaps. “Doesn't that mega douche understand what 'no' means!”

“He's never had a problem getting what he wants,” she answers as she hands him a drink. “You're the first creature that refuses to mate with him, choosing to be with his simpering little brother instead. It's a blow to his alpha pride.”

“Some alpha,” Dean snorts. “Can't get a mate without acting like a complete stalker psycho. It's amazing everyone else he's wanted hasn't shown interest in Cas first, he's a way better guy... handsome, powerful, funny...”

“Okay, seriously, I almost threw up in my mouth,” Hel comments. “He's my baby brother, I don't need to hear how sexy you think he is. And before you say anything, you were totally thinking it.”

“... Sorry. I'm not used to talking about shit like this.”

“That's because you're around alphas all the time,” she snorts. “Even your brother is an alpha, it's no wonder you don't talk about shit. I'm sure when you get around an omega you're close to, you spill like a cracked glass.”

Dean frowns at that, yet thinks back to his time with Charlie. It's true, he has always broken down and spilled with the redhead... but only because she's dangerous and probably slightly psychotic. He can't prove that last one, but she always seems to get that way around him. He sighs and picks up the bottle of beer, thanking the stars Hel was nice enough to add food and drink the hunters would like.

A glance to the left shows Fenrir just a bit closer to him. He'd hurry to Castiel's side, who's busy talking to Thor and Frigga, but that would be a blow to _his_ pride. So far, Thor has given Sam a wide berth... probably because Sam was the one that killed him. He's standing so he can keep those incredible blue eyes on the other, however. Unfortunately, Dean wants Castiel to look the other way. The hunter's every molecule is demanding he beat the shit out of the god ogling him... he can't do that with Castiel standing guard.

“What's the matter, big boy?” Hel smirks teasingly. “Afraid you're gonna get jumped and your precious alpha won't be able to reach you in time?”

“No,” he mutters. “I want him to turn around.”

“... Why?” she wonders in surprise.

“I can't kick that hound dog's ass with him watching me, he'll stop me from causing any damage!”

Hel stares at him a moment, blinking in surprise, and then bursts into laughter. She didn't give the other enough credit, he has more dominant cells in his body than she first thought. It comes as a surprise to her, as Castiel doesn't like being challenged... no alpha does. Seeing Dean so strung up and ready to pounce makes her wonder just how her little brother deals with his personality.

Finally, Castiel is distracted by Odin. The older man stepping up behind him to join in on their conversation. Dean grins wide, knowing Fenrir will take this opportunity to approach him. Hey, the guy was warned. Hot breath brushes against Dean's throat, the hunter turning to regard the raven. His yellow eyes are glowing with lust.

“If I were him, I wouldn't trust you alone here... not with me,” he comments. “After all... I always get what I want.”

“And what is it you want?”

“You... on your hands and knees... in front of me.”

“Careful... you just might get what you wish for,” Dean smirks meanly.

Fenrir chuckles darkly at that, running and hand through Dean's hair. That's what he's waiting for, the opening Fenrir was warned about. He told him not to to touch, it's not his fault he's a man of his word. He moves forward, leaving only an inch between their noses. By now Castiel has turned to check on his mate, his hand immediately smacking his forehead at the sight. Hel sees the reaction, her curiosity growing greater at this.

Dean jerks his knee up, landing a strong hit to the other's groin. With a gasp of pain, Fenrir grips his manhood and sinks to the floor. With a sadistic little smile, the hunter pats him on the head in a gesture of feigned fondness.

“Oh, you said you wanted _me_ in that position,” he comments sarcastically. “My bad, dude. I'm seriously not a good listener, next time I'll make sure I got it right before acting.”

“You son of a bitch,” Fenrir gasps out.

“... You know, I haven't asked her yet, but I'm sure she can be a really big one.”

“Dean!” Castiel calls out in reprimand.

“... Now you got me in trouble,” he frowns down at the god. “Are you happy?”

Castiel crosses his arms over his chest, giving the hunter a pointed look he's seen multiple times on Sam's face. It's the one that says 'quit playing around and get your ass over here'. With a sigh, he grabs a second beer and walks that way. Though he knows the gods and goddesses are likely laughing at him, he keeps his head held high and his expression petulant. Once he reaches the angel, he hands him a beer.

“He started it,” he automatically states.

“I'm not even starting this with you,” Castiel sighs. “You never listen, you always have some smart remark to counter everything I say... and he completely deserved it.”

“I love you, Cas, you're fucking awesome,” Dean grins.

The angel smiles minutely at the compliment, surprised when the hunter leans over and plants a kiss on his cheek. Hel joins them, grinning meanly at her brother as she passes him by. Though she loves her siblings, it's refreshing to see them knocked around by someone other than herself. A warrior needs challenges to stay strong after all.

Across the room, Gabriel is showing off Sam as though he's the most precious gem in the world. Around here, that may very well be. Hunters sort of make it a rule not to fall in love with the creatures they hunt. Sam is so much more knowledgeable than Dean, too, which is probably invigorating for those thought to be lost to time.

The green-eyed hunter is nothing like Sam, but his charms lie in a different area. Whereas Sam can suck up through their triumphs and such, Dean has a quality about him that's difficult to hate. No matter how obnoxious he tends to be, he draws people like a moth to a flame. He tries his best to converse with Odin and Thor, yet he's so brutally honest at times he swears they're about to hit him over the head. Forget the fact there might still be bad blood between them from their last encounters.

“They say you're a hunter,” Thor remarks curiously. “How does that work?”

“... I kill things that hurt people,” Dean comments off-handedly.

“No, I mean... what happens when you're faced with a dominant creature? It must be difficult with you being submissive and all,” the blonde says. “Is that why you and your brother hunt in a pair? So he can deal with the more domineering ones?”

“I do fine on my own,” Dean frowns. “My status in the bedroom doesn't touch on anything but that. I see a dangerous creature threatening humans and I kill it. It's not that difficult.”

“So... is it like a motherly instinct?”

A low growl comes from the hunter, his eyes flashing in rage at the insinuation, and Castiel grips the back of his neck quickly. It might not stop the green-eyed man from attacking, but it'll calm him down. At the touch of the angel's hand, a wash of peace rolls through him. The brunette goes back to his drink as though nothing happened.

“Castiel?” Thor questions. “What did you do?”

“Dean is submissive in bed, but only because I'm more dominant,” he informs. “When we first met we butted heads constantly, he just wouldn't back down. He may be an omega, but he certainly doesn't conform to it. He's as dangerous as they come.”

“Is that so? I'm surprised no one found him before you,” the blonde grins. “Father, did you realize his potential when you first met him? I didn't have the chance to really look at them.”

“Both the Winchesters crackled with a unique energy,” the elderly man comments. “No human has ever given off such an aura, it was extremely interesting... but the times were unforgiving. I had no chance to consider the possibilities of using them for my own gain. Of course your brother would've gotten the chance before we did.”

Thor laughs at that, his blue eyes turning to gaze at Gabriel. At the meeting so long ago, Gabriel was outted as an angel pretending to be a trickster. Odin was there, he knew what the trickster really was, yet it would seem he kept that to himself... or everyone simply doesn't care anymore. From what Dean remembers, Odin adopted Loki and raised him as his own. It's possible the old man really feels a fatherly connection to the angel he raised a trickster. Maybe that's all that's needed for the rest of this strange family to accept him as well.

Dean sighs and leans against Castiel, the alcohol sending a pleasant buzz through his body. Within the glass castle, the screams outside are locked away and he can relax. Hel watches him, listens to his even breathing, and sighs at the pure serenity she can sense inside his mind. It's not something a person can achieve in such a short time, which draws her curiosity even more. She knows he's the child of the light, Castiel told her as much, but she didn't expect him to hold such a trait. Humans are known to be chaotic and illogical. His bloodline is something they probably wouldn't tell anyone else. It's a secret she's not willing to give up to the world around her, not even through torture, as she knows how quickly it'll make him a target for capture.

“Dean, come dance with me,” she offers. “I'll even let you lead.”

“... Cas..?”

“I don't mind, just... watch your surroundings.”

“Oh please, Casandra, I won't let anything happen to him,” she comments with a roll of her eyes. “Geez, you'd think he doesn't trust me or something.”

She grabs Dean's hand and pulls him off into the crowd. The dance floor isn't packed, but it's big enough that's not possible, and Hel stops around the middle of it. She pulls Dean into her arms and he instinctively does the same to her. It isn't long before he realizes she's not used to letting someone else lead. He chuckles at that and allows her to do so.

“Fenrir will be stuck on you for years to come, you know,” she chuckles.

“Just let him come for me,” Dean scoffs. “Nothing will stop me from making him wish he were dead... not if Cas isn't there to protect him.”

“Family is family, Dean,” she sighs. “You can't choose them, but they're yours to protect.”

“Hey, I didn't say kill the fucker, I said hurt him.”

She laughs at that, running a hand through his short locks. He really is a fetching male; Castiel will have many challengers trying to take him away. She catches Fenrir talking to Jormungandr across the way, Gabriel waltzing between the two groups with Sam... who's blushing horribly at having to dance with his mate.

The fact the two are up to no good is obvious to her, she's known them all their lives after all. The serpent will most definitely help Fenrir get Dean... for the right price. It would seem, however, that even he has lines he won't cross. This one being the one set by Odin himself. The wolf huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, eyes boring into Dean as he dances with Hel.

“Man, I wish I could stab those eyes out of his skull,” the hunter hisses. “Hey, Sammy.”

“Dean,” the taller man sighs out as he's led over to them. “How are you enjoying the reunion?”

“Not as much as you, apparently.”

“My other family is very hard to get along with,” Gabriel says sheepishly. “But they're a far cry better than the first one. At least they don't try and kill their own when their back is turned.”

Dean nods absently at that. He can see Castiel heading toward him, the angel finally able to sneak away from the conversation. The chatter rises around them, almost drowning out the music, and Dean wonders why they're staying so long. He doesn't mind Hel, she's actually quite refreshing to be around compared to the others, but Fenrir is getting to be more irritating than anything.

A hand touches his shoulder and green eyes turn to lock with blue. The smile on Castiel's lips is small, yet it's filled with a happiness the hunter rarely sees on him. Usually it only makes an appearance when they're all hanging out together. Beer, the absence of creepy targets, and a lot of chatter. That's the perfect recipe to get that smile on the angel.

“Is everything okay, Cas?” he wonders.

“I thought I might cut in for a bit.”

“Be my guest!” Hel grins widely. “He sucks a following.”

“It's not my fault you wouldn't let me lead,” Dean grumbles.

The goddess laughs and steps away, making room for her little brother. He draws Dean into his arms, swaying their bodies to the music slowly. Dean can feel heat rush to his cheeks at the situation, the hunter swallowing audibly. It's not every day he get nervous, yet this angel is so good at making him so. He can barely register the fact they're surrounded by others, his green eyes half mast and filled with an emotion he's never allowed himself before.

Dean would only ever get this way for Castiel, he knows as much. No one has ever managed to pull more nervous smiles, fidgeting, and awkward silences from him. Slowly, though not as quickly as the angel might want, he's coming to terms with that.

“Casandra!” Fenrir shouts. “I can't _stand_ this anymore! He deserves a _real_ alpha! I'm challenging you for the rights to your mate!”

Castiel stills and turns icy blue pools to his brother, the frigid power of winter flowing off his skin. The hunter shivers and takes a step back, uncertainty swimming within his green eyes. It takes only a few seconds for the words to sink into the minds of those present, and then everyone is making room for the impending fight. Just as the angel opens his mouth to either decline or accept, Gabriel looks in Hel's direction and sucks in a sharp breath.

“Hel! People that live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones!” he yells. “I mean it! I don't want to get injured by your poor aim!”

All eyes are on her and she immediately drops the palm sized stone in her hand. Her head bows at the reprimanding, lips twisted into a pout. Her brother seems shocked at her attempted attack, yet it quickly turns to anger. Once she notes this, she draws up an intimidating look on her own face and puts her hands on her hips.

“This is _my_ home, damn it!” she snaps. “You'll respect it, or I'll _destroy_ you!”

“He belongs with me!”

“He belongs with the alpha he chose!”

“... Will you all just shut up!” Dean yells. “Look I'm glad you're trying to help, Hel... but I got this. I want to be with Cas. I don't care if you think he's lacking, what he lacks I make up for. And vise-versa. We were made for each other... or I was made for him... whatever. The point is, you can't handle me. And since you can't handle me, don't fucking try! You challenge him again, touch me again, _look_ at me wrong... I'll beat you down so bad you'll develop a fear of omegas. Got that, Fido?”

Fenrir looks as though he wants to argue, however Dean is quick to rush in. Within seconds there's a demon blade at the god's throat. Flabbergasted, the wolf stumbles back a few steps and stares at Dean. The hard ice in the eyes of the hunter takes him by surprise, it's something an omega shouldn't have. All the years of hunting, the training and the calls with death, have turned Dean into a new type of animal... a type Fenrir knows he won't win against.

“...Fine, I'll give up... for now,” he remarks quietly. “Casandra, get your bitch under control.”

“I can only put up with him because I don't try and control him,” Castiel shrugs off. “Once you start telling him what to do, he'll do it anyway just to spite you.”

“Are you sure you're the alpha in this relationship?” the wolf sneers.

“Pretty sure... in bed,” Castiel waves off. “Other than that, he can do whatever his heart desires... as long as it doesn't lead to his death. I'm content with letting him off the leash as long as I get to dominate where it counts.”

“... Can we _please_ stop talking about my sex life,” Dean murmurs with a bright blush.

Hel laughs, pulling Dean away from the group, and eyes her father pointedly as she continues to walk. He doesn't know where they're going, doesn't really care, just knows that he's getting away from the mortification Castiel is making for him. The crowds have begun to thin out, many of the older gods having grown tired. In the absence of the elderly, the youths are causing a riot on the dance floor. The music has changed to more harsh beats and screaming lyrics, the dancing transforming into jumping about and grinding on one another.

Sam has retreated from the floor, trailing after Dean as though he's the only person that can save his sanity. Though Gabriel groans in disappointment, he follows at his daughter's request. Before he pushes past the bodies gravitating toward one another, he hurries back and drags Castiel along.

The angel is confused, at best, as the reunion is still thriving and Hel loves to socialize. Being the queen of Helheim doesn't offer her the chance often. The reasons for her leading them out of the ballroom escape him. They walk along the glistening halls, the banister lining the open side shining like ice in the sunlight. Castiel catches up with Dean, who's ambling along with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He seems perfectly at peace with the world around him. It's comforting, yet seems so unlike the other that Castiel has to peek in his mind to make sure he's not trapped in a trance.

“Okay, this is my personal chamber,” Hel comments. “No one is allowed in here... except for Castiel when he was still little. He would sleep in bed with me when he had nightmares.”

“Awe, isn't that just precious,” Dean coos teasingly. “Sammy used to do the same thing with me.”

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam murmurs in embarrassment. “We were kids, kids do stuff like that.”

“Anyway,” Hel continues. “I placed the weapon in my vault, a place only I can get into. Come on, I'll get it for you and you guys can be on your way. Okay?”

Gabriel eyes her a moment, yet nods his assent. She swings her bedroom door open and steps inside. It's lit dimly by torchlight, the floor covered in a black rug that takes up nearly the whole area. The bed is a canopy, dark wood with gargoyles carved into the tops of the posts, and the spread is crimson and black. There's a grandfather clock, warped and twisted in appearance like a melting candle, against one wall. A wardrobe much the same fashion is near it. On a back wall is a large double door that leads to a walk in closet, which Hel walks toward without hesitation.

She opens those doors as well, looking back to the group behind her before snapping her fingers. The opening that leads to the closet melts away, a painting doused in acetone, and reveals another room altogether. This is the one she enters, returning a moment later with a strange cube of some sort. She hands it off to Gabriel with a smirk.

“There you go, nice and safe as promised.”

“Thank you, Hel,” he smiles widely. “This will do well taking out Kushiel, it's the only power as ancient as that that protects her.”

“... What the hell is it?” Sam asks curiously. “I vaguely remember seeing a picture of it in the books at the bunker, but I don't remember it.”

“This is the Casket of Ancient Winter,” Gabriel grins widely. “Odin's most prized possession... until I relieved him of it, that is. I never would've touched it if he hadn't of scolded me, you know. I mean, come on. Thor was overreacting about that prank, people confuse shampoo for hair dye every day. _Anyone_ could've switched it on him, I don't know why he accused _me_ right away. Besides, he totally pulled off the cotton candy pink.”

“I don't want to know,” Sam sighs in exasperation.

“Dude, you ever do that to me you'll be missing your dick the next time you wake up,” Dean threatens. “Do I make myself clear?”

He says nothing, yet the expression of early defeat tells Dean he was thinking about it. Now that he's nipped that in the bud, he'll have to be extra vigilant against the trickster's idea of affection. The hunter grumbles beneath his breath, scooting a tad closer to Castiel unconsciously. Once Gabriel has the weapon tucked away in his coat, they're ushered back to the grand entrance hall and down the large staircase.

“You guys are always welcome to stay the night, you know,” Hel offers. “If you ever need to get away from it all, you can't get any further than the afterlife! I mean, if you ignore the punishment fields and the outer town, this place is beautiful.”

“Thanks, Hel,” Dean smiles. “But we should really get back. There's no telling what chaos ensued while we were gone.”

“Here,” she states handing Dean a piece of paper. “That's my phone number. Everyone has a cell nowadays, even us gods and goddesses. Call me, even if it's just to chat. You'll feel much better with an omega around, I promise. And I'm not a gossip, so you can tell me everything you wouldn't tell anyone else. I mean... it's not like I don't already know it.”

“... Okay... thanks. I'll definitely contact you.”

She smiles and waves them off, her cheerful demeanor a far cry from the aggressive woman he first met. It's a refreshing change, but also one that has him on guard. Before he can think anymore on it, Castiel's hand is on his shoulder and Helheim is gone. Dean opens his eyes to the familiar library of their bunker. It's quiet, yet there's something about the place that screams 'you're not alone'. Dean hums to himself and moves toward the kitchen, the energy within that room calling to him like a distorted whisper in a dream.

Seated at the island counter there, heads cradled in their arms as they snooze, are Charlie and Kevin. Sam joins Dean in the large area, stifling a chuckle at the sight of the redhead drooling on the counter top. Their hunts must've been taxing. They're tempted to carry the two into a vacant room and let them rest, but they're far too tired.

Castiel and Gabriel are studying the Casket of Ancient Winter, the two lounging on the couch as they set it on the coffee table. Dean and Sam head toward the showers, neither ready for bed at the moment and both getting closer to it. Dean jumps in a cubicle on one side of the bathroom, Sam takes one a couple cubicles down.

“Man, what a night,” Dean sighs out.

“Tell me about it,” Sam scoffs.

“I hate to say this, Sammy, but we mated into one fucked up family.”

“They weren't that bad... a little crazy, but it's not like we came from a sane one.”

At that, Dean makes an expression of reluctant agreement. The room is filled with the sound of running water, the heat from said water creating an almost muggy atmosphere. It's comfortable and the two hunters find they don't want to leave just yet. As tired as they are, the heat is nice and relaxing.

After their showers, the two dry off and pull on sweatpants. They head back toward the bedrooms, murmuring quiet good nights as they part ways. Dean flops down on his bed, rolling over to stare at the ceiling, and listens for any sort of sound that might give away Castiel's approach. There's nothing. A fan above spins listlessly, slowly, with a hum of noise. A light from his laptop on the table soaks the room in a dim glow, it's just bright enough to reveal the area. Dean groans and rolls back onto his stomach, reaching to draw the blanket over his body.

“This isn't healthy,” he mutters out. “I should be able to sleep without clinging to Cas.”

With a sigh, he turns onto his side and grabs the angel's pillow. With his arms wrapped around the object, he closes his eyes and concentrates on sleep. His body feels strangely cold, like the very core of him is mourning, and his mind keeps circling back to his mate. With a frustrated growl, the hunter buries himself beneath the blankets.

Castiel frowns to himself, glancing toward the doorway that leads to the bedrooms. He can feel Dean's irritation, the way his weariness is fighting with his need for company, and it's making him feel inadequate as an alpha. Gabriel notices his lack of attention, gazing at the angel he raised curiously. It takes a short while for the other to notice, however when he does a light dusting of blush touches his cheeks.

“So... what's wrong?”

“Dean can't sleep,” the younger angel sighs. “He's getting frustrated.”

“Just let him be, Cas,” Gabriel comments. “If you keep enabling him, your presence will become an addiction. The last thing we need is our 'hard as nails' hunter turning into a mushy omega.”

“But...”

“Listen, Cas... Dean's personality was created by a lack of affection and constant loneliness. That's what makes him such a dangerous hunter. If you're always there to take care of him, he'll loose that need to protect himself through aggression. You won't always be near him, don't make him weaker because you can't let him be.”

Castiel frowns, his brows dipping in thought. What Gabriel says makes sense, yet Dean needs him. It's a struggle he knows will plague him for a long time. Steeling his determination, he forces his attention back on the Casket of Ancient Winters. Gabriel does the same, wracking his brain on how to work it. He knew once upon a time, however the years have added so many memories they've buried that one.

Dean sighs, eyes on the ceiling. It's been around fifteen minutes and he's no closer to sleep. His hands raise and he draws them down his face in frustration. He's exhausted, yet his mind won't allow him slumber. Vaguely, he wonders if this is how a crack addict feels. No matter how hard he tries, he just can't seem to stop wanting Castiel with him.

The fact the angel hasn't arrived yet hasn't been lost on him. Either he's being ignored, or the other just can't hear him. He highly doubts the last one. Quietly, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes once more. He'll be damned if he gives in to his wants just because his heart aches for his lover. He listens to the hum of the fan, his mind traveling memories that always soothed him... most are when he was with Sam in their youth. Finally, ever so slowly, his mind drifts off and he falls asleep.

Castiel enters the room hours later, finding Dean spread out on the mattress and drooling on his pillow. A small fond smile tugs at the angel's lips. He's gotten so accustomed to living as a human, changing clothes and showering, that he does it automatically now. The only thing he doesn't do is eat, something he's never been fond of. He tugs off his clothes and carefully shifts Dean onto one side of the bed, crawling in afterward with only his boxers on. The hunter turns in his sleep, unconsciously searching out his lover's warmth, and Castiel draws him close. He doesn't need sleep, but relaxing with his mate in his arms is a pastime he wouldn't give up for anything.

Dean wakes the next morning entangled in Castiel's arms. The sight isn't much of a shock, yet he still finds himself surprised the angel is there. With a yawn and a stretch, he slips from bed without a sound. He knows the other is already awake, probably never went to sleep, so when Castiel sits up Dean simply smirks at him.

“I'm sorry for not coming to you last night,” the angel sighs. “Gabriel warned me that my presence could soften you should I constantly answer your agitation. I didn't want that, I love you the way you are and would hate myself should I ever change you.”

“It's okay, I was sort of worried I was getting addicted to you anyway,” Dean chuckles sheepishly. “How about you only come when I call for you? That way I can try shaking off this 'addiction' and you know when your presence is dire?”

“I can agree with that.”

The angel climbs from the bed, carefully making it again once he's on his feet. He's noticed that Dean is meticulous when it comes to his living quarters... military, even. Every bed is made perfectly, every book is in it's place, and every piece of trash is tucked away in the garbage basket. He finds it odd for a man so chaotic to be so orderly. Should he take the time to delve deeper into it, he would say it's because this is how Dean was taught by his father. Now that John is gone, this is likely the very last way Dean knows how to stay close to him... aside from hunting, that is.

“Hey, tiger, you coming?” Dean asks with a humored tone. “Or are you gonna stand there thinking all day?”

“I'm coming.”

They exit the room and walk down the empty hall toward the kitchen. There's no noise from the room this morning, no Sam beating Gabriel over the head with a frying pan, and Dean has to bury his disappointment at that. He pulls out a carton of eggs, shivering at the coolness that drifts from the fridge, and a pack of bacon. He goes back to grab a beer, never shy about drinking alcohol in the morning, but Castiel's dirty look his way has his hand veering over to the orange juice.

He sends a pout back to the angel, yet says nothing. Glancing at the counter the angel now sits at, he remembers that Charlie and Kevin returned yesterday. He'll have to make a huge breakfast to feed everyone. Though he wonders who put them to bed, he doesn't dwell on it. Dean grabs a pan and turns on the stove.

By the time Sam wanders into the kitchen, Dean already has the food done. He's just scrapping it onto a few plates when his taller brother leans over his shoulder. Sam steals a strip of bacon, dodging his brother's smacking hand with a grin. Not too far behind him, Kevin and Charlie enter. The food is attacked by the group, Dean beating them back with a wooden spoon to get his own share. Gabriel joins Castiel, the two laughing at the sight. This is the sense of normality the hunters relish, so rare and wonderful they wish it could happen all the time. But the hunt will always call to them, it's inevitable they fall back into old habits.


	24. So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the bunker, Dean's temper is getting the better of him. Though they feel he's just pissed at Kushiel for wanting to hurt Cas, they soon find that's not all it is. Dean is sick, his bloodline acting up with the rise of his temper. Sam's own bloodline is affected by the shift in Dean's, bringing forth more information on their new powers. after dealing with that, a trip into town leaves the Winchesters in the middle of Kushiel's first trap... and without their angels to back them up. Thankfully, it only takes a thought to get them there. Unfortunately, they don't expect Kushiel to show up herself. Knowing both angels as well as she does, it'll be easy for her to manipulate their movements and capture Dean.

Dean Winchester isn't one for waiting. If he has a target in mind, he'll go to them without hesitation or thought... that's probably why he either ends up dead or horribly injured. Not that he would admit that. Kushiel is the current target and he's itching to finally hunt her down and end her plans before they can begin. Unfortunately, he only has one vote and it's up against the three that basically say 'think again'. Sam and Gabriel are with Castiel on this, wanting to wait for the angel to make the first move. Even Charlie and Kevin refuse to back Dean, as they're aware how his impatience can get the best of him.

“Come on!” he shouts in frustration. “There's no telling what that psycho bitch is doing out there! We need to track her down before she starts killing innocent humans!”

“She's been out since the Leviathan incident, Dean,” Sam argues. “If she hasn't killed anyone since then, I highly doubt she's looking to do so now. There's no point to it.”

“It doesn't matter! The faster we gank that bitch the safer the world will be!”

“Dean,” Castiel sighs. “It doesn't matter how long we wait, Kushiel can't make a move until she has the key to Lucifer's cage. As far as I know, that's here in the bunker... You _did_ pick it up after the ordeal, didn't you?”

There's a heavy silence in the room, all eyes on Dean, and the hunter's face looks blank. He honestly can't remember the answer to that question. That fact is obvious in his eyes, the other three present groaning in frustration at the sight. A light blush spreads over Dean's face, the hunter immediately getting defensive in order to hide it.

“Give a break! It's not like it was at the forefront of my damn mind!” he huffs. “I had just lost my brother and got the shit beat out of me!”

“I understand you had difficulty at that time, Dean,” Castiel smiles softly. “I'm sure you'll remember what happened to the key, just give it a little time. In the meantime, just remember... she can't do anything without the key.”

“Whatever,” the green-eyed man bristles before walking away.

Sam is stunned, looking between Gabriel and Castiel for answers. Though his expression demands them, neither angel offers anything more than raised brows. The taller man sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He's not sure why Dean is acting like this, however it really shouldn't be a surprise.

“Okay... what was that about?” he frowns. “Dean's usually pretty passionate about his work, but he's never been _that_ passionate. He's bordering on obsessive psycho.”

“Dean-o's having a little bout of 'bitch fight',” Gabriel snickers when Castiel doesn't answer. “Omegas don't like threats directed toward their mates, so Dean is acting in kind. Kushiel is a threat to Castiel and Dean will kill her before he allows her to harm his mate. She'll be damn lucky if she never manages to capture him.”

“Why's that?” Sam wonders.

“Like all other angels, Kushiel will underestimate Dean,” Castiel murmurs in response. “She'll try to hold him as a captive and he'll manage to get away. Heaven knows how, but he'll manage. When that happens, his inner hunter will be mixed with his inner omega and all hell will break loose. He'll not only be acting on years of training and experience, but also the power of his newly released bloodline. That's not only dangerous for Kushiel... but for Dean.”

Sam goes silent at that, unable to believe such a thing. Then again, he can feel the pulse of his own bloodline and the power that comes with it... it's strong enough to give him a headache without even thinking about it. To use such a thing without knowing or understanding it could be potentially deadly.

It's warm within the small room, Dean lying on the bed in his boxers. It isn't noon yet, however the heat is killing him. Though the fan is going and it wasn't this hot beforehand, Dean can't help shedding his clothes and lying across the bed on his stomach. No one is in the sleeping quarters area, yet he's not about to leave the door open for everyone to catch him in his underwear... it's closed tight.

Sweat is running along his tan skin, the beads soaking into the sheets after reaching them. He has no clue what's wrong with him. It hit like a bolt of lightening, one minute he's fine and the next he's sweating up a storm. He's not positive, but it might be his bloodline acting up... it scares him. He can almost feel his skin beginning to melt off, the itching setting in and reaching bone deep. The hunter groans in irritation and misery.

“Dean? Are you alright?” Kevin calls from the hallway.

“I'm fine... just... I ate something that didn't agree with me,” he responds.

“Do you want me to get you some medicine or something?”

“No thanks, it'll pass.”

“Okay... if you need anything just call.”

He listens to the other retreat, those soft footfalls sounding like thunder to his ears. Dean's vision is beginning to blacken around the edges. He wants to call Castiel, yet knows the angel won't be able to do much for him. Besides, he's not ready to admit defeat yet. This is just something in his head and he's not going to let some stupid thought take him down. He doesn't get the chance to force it down, though, as he begins to black in and out. This alone is enough to get Castiel on edge.

“Dean?” the angel comments. “Dean, are you okay?”

“I'm burning up,” he moans miserably. “It's just too fucking hot, Cas. What the hell kind of bloodline tries to kill it's carrier?”

“One that must constantly test you for worthiness,” he offers as he sits on the bed beside his mate. “The minute you show darkness in your heart, it will devour you to keep the balance of the world. I, for one, am not worried in the least. I know you will always be a righteous man, Dean. You will always be pure of heart.”

“Right now I'm feeling like I'm 'veins of magma'!”

Castiel sighs and shifts on the bed, pulling Dean into his arms. The other really is hot to the touch, his bloodline adjusting to the hunter. The angel's Grace fills Dean with a touch of minty coolness, drawing a sigh of relief from the green-eyed male as he clings to his mate.

“That feels so fucking good,” Dean comments almost lustfully.

“I apologize, Dean, but this is about all I can do for you,” Castiel remarks. “I wish I could take it all away, I really do. Right now, all I'm capable of is hiding the pain. When did this start?”

“... When I left because you guys wouldn't listen to me,” Dean gripes.

“We listened, my light,” Castiel sighs. “It's not that we didn't, it's just that you're being blinded by status. You just don't understand how dangerous seeking vengeance is for you, Dean. Vengeance is a dark emotion, something reserved for the moon and its child. Each time you attempt to seek it your bloodline will challenge you. It isn't your fault, it's your status rising to the challenge Kushiel placed before you.”

Dean nods and cuddles beneath Castiel's chin, ignoring most of his speech as the Grace between them lays chilly kisses along his skin. It's not that he doesn't want to listen to Castiel, it's just... no, wait... yeah, he just doesn't want to listen. It's probably really important and might come in handy in the near future, but right now he's distracted by the unbearable itching on his skin. He'll just ask the angel to repeat it all at a later time... maybe when he actually wants to sit through a lecture. Like... when he can't get to sleep. That should serve to knock him out faster than a hit from a werewolf.

Sam gazes upon a notebook he has open in front of him. After learning how to transport himself with just a thought, he figured it would be a good idea to keep a journal about his bloodline. It's more for his own reference than for others. He's been having a strong migraine at least once a week, though it's easily shaken off by thinking of all the creatures he's ganked with Dean. Right now his skin is cold, to the point he's locked in a light cold sweat, and his vision has a strange gray film over it. It's as though he's walking through the night although it's clearly day if the clock is anything to go by. The absolute strangest thing, is the fact he can hear Dean's thoughts in the back of his mind. He can feel his brother's suffering and responds in kind with his own.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asks curiously.

“Writing down some notes in my journal,” he answers. “It would seem I can hear Dean's thoughts... not the most encouraging revelation. The last thing I ever wanted was to be invited into that mess of a mind.”

“It's not that odd,” the archangel waves off. “You two have a connection just like your mothers. In order to keep a better hold on the balance they either have to be together at all times... or learn to read one another's minds. This way you'll know if you have to counter something Dean did, or vise-versa. See how that works?”

“He's suffering,” Sam murmurs. “I can feel it, a lick of heat... almost like the touch of a ghost. It's hurting him really bad. My own skin started going cold in response, almost as though it's trying to cool him off.”

“Just like your mothers... you were born to balance one another out, to take care of each other,” Gabriel informs. “When he's in pain, you'll try to soothe it. When he's injured, you'll try to heal it. If he's scared, you'll try to ease it. It goes both ways. Basically, you're all you two have and you know it. You might have Cas and me, but when it comes to blood there are no others like you. Therefore, no one else knows your blood better than each other.”

Sam realizes exactly what Gabriel is trying to tell him. They're two halves of a whole. Though they don't quite know how to work like that, apparently their blood knows exactly what to do. He doesn't want to barge in on Castiel's time with Dean, however he's afraid only he can take away the pain Dean is going through. With a hesitant expression on his face, Sam finally gets up to locate his brother.

When the taller man finally reaches his brother's room, he glances in to see Dean clinging to the angel he's mated to. Sam can feel the heat off Dean's skin from the doorway. He steps into the room and Castiel sends him a curious look.

“I've come to help Dean,” he explains. “Apparently, like our mothers, we're built to care for one another. I can feel his pain and it's driving me nuts, so I'm here to stop it.”

“... How?” the angel wonders.

“... I have no clue,” Sam sighs. “I'm sort of just hoping my bloodline knows what to do or something... I just couldn't _not_ try.”

Castiel nods in understanding, carefully moving Dean into Sam's embrace. The hunter is unconscious, blissfully sleeping in the comfort of darkness. He doesn't even groan when taken from Castiel, the small worry lines that lingered between his brows immediately smoothing out. He curls against Sam, like a child searching for safety in a parent, and a soft snore leaves his lips. Sam can't help but chuckle at it. He wonders if this is how he was when he slept with Dean after a particularly bad nightmare... the older brother rarely ever talks about their youth.

“Shall I leave you two alone?” Castiel wonders.

“No, it's fine,” Sam assures. “I never would've barged in like that unless I thought I could help, you know. I wasn't sure how you'd take it.”

“You're his brother, Sam, you're always welcome to make him feel better.”

“But you're his mate, that's supposed to be your job now.”

“I'm not above admitting sometimes the better choice would be you. You understand far more about Dean than I can, especially his human side. Emotions like that are always difficult to keep up with, they seem to change in Dean faster than the clouds in the sky.”

“Can't argue with that.”

“I'll leave you two alone. Perhaps Gabriel needs assistance with the Casket of Ancient Winter.”

Before Sam can respond, Castiel is gone and the room is empty save for them. Feeling the beginnings of exhaustion, Sam lies on the bed beside Dean and stares at the ceiling. He felt Dean's mind struggling last night, though he can't understand why. He slept just fine aside from the thoughts prodding the back of his mind. He meant to ask the other about it, however it never seemed a good time. He knows from experience Dean won't talk about that sort of stuff with other people around.

Dean is in Heaven, he's sure of it. The world around him is white, the sky above a dark blue, and he's bathed in the light of the moon. It's beautiful and his skin is awash in a Fall chill that soaks into his core. It's so much better than the blazing heat of before. Vaguely, the hunter wonders if the heat didn't kill him in his sleep.

“It didn't,” a voice comments.

“Oh good, I was a bit worried there for a minute,” he chuckles. “To what do I owe this visit?”

He turns to see Xia watching him, her lithe body sat in the limbs of a short tree. Her long legs are crossed at the knee, her katana set across her lap. Carefully, he ambles over and swings himself up into the tree with her.

“I was just checking on you, that's all,” she responds. “As we've mentioned before, you and Sam are our first offspring. We were never meant to have children. As such, we're a little worried about how our bloodline might affect you both. Apparently, our worries are unwarranted. You two seem to be getting along just fine with the help of Gabriel.”

“Gabriel? What makes him so great?” Dean mumbles.

“Gabriel was one of the first angels, he's been around much longer than the majority of them. He's one of the first creatures Ming Yue and I worked on together. We may not have created him, but we did send the choice. We needed an angel we could both trust, one that we could both go to for help, so we sent the choice to create Gabriel's personality.”

“You did one hell of a job,” he scoffs.

“Yes, we certainly did,” she grins widely. “Anyway, how are you holding up, Sunspot?”

“I don't like the surprise attacks from the inside, feels too much like an ambush,” Dean waves off. “Cas says it's because of some vengeance shit, but I can't help feeling that way because of my status. How is that even fair?”

Xia sighs and tries to think of an answer. It really isn't, it shouldn't have happened that way, however Dean and Sam are special cases. Everything that happens to them is new, it's never happened to another. Therefore there's no way for anyone, not even the deities of balance, to know what might transpire or how things will end.

By the time lunch rolls around, Sam starts awake with a snort. He wipes his mouth of drool and checks on Dean, who's just now stirring. His skin isn't cold anymore, which means Dean's isn't burning up. The feeling of suffering has quieted down, leaving both hunters well rested.

“I thought I fell asleep with Cas,” Dean murmurs still half asleep. “Either I'm sleepwalking, or this is one freaky dream... please tell me it's the sleepwalking.”

“It's neither,” Sam laughs. “I came in to help out when I felt you squirming in pain.”

“... Come again?”

“We're connected, we can feel each other's pain and hear one another's thoughts. It's really quiet though. I think it might be overshadowed by our bonds with Cas and Gabriel.”

“Awesome... I'm starving, let's go grab lunch,” Dean yawns. “You think the Warden will let us go into town for a burger?”

Sam shrugs in response, distracted by his rumbling stomach. It hasn't escaped his notice that he's hungrier than he should be. He can only imagine the changes they went through took a lot of energy, which means they have to eat to replace it...he'll have to add that to his journal. Dean is the first to make his way to the door, glancing back to catch the thoughtful expression on his brother's face.

He knows what Sam is thinking, he's not as stupid as most people think, and it's bothering him as well. Mostly because he doesn't want to put more effort into exercise when he doesn't bother now. If he has to continue adding to his meals, however, the hunts won't be enough to keep off the extra weight. With an internal groan, Dean grabs Sam's wrist and tugs him out of the room.

“Hey, Dean-o!” Gabriel greets when they make it to the kitchen. “Hungry? I could hear your stomachs all the way out here.”

“We're gonna go into town and grab a burger.”

“... Come again?”

“Dude! I'm not staying in this bunker again!” he shouts. “Sam and I are going into town to grab a burger. If you try to stop me, so help my soul, I'll run you through with an angel blade!”

Gabriel's eyes go wide, yet he catches Sam shaking his head behind Dean and mouthing 'no he won't'. It does little to soothe his nerves, however he knows Sam would never let Dean kill him. That doesn't help at the moment, though. The green eyes staring at him are filled with warning, setting off flashing red lights in the back of his mind. Those lights are there to keep him breathing, he knows as much. They go off whenever he's getting close to pressing Dean too far.

“... Okay,” he remarks offhandedly. “Have fun.”

“... Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. You already proved I can't keep you locked up when you want out,” he sighs. “Besides, I _still_ haven't managed to find your escape route. Go have fun, just... be safe.”

Stunned and having expected a much larger fight than that, Dean turns around and walks off in a trance. Sam has a knowing smirk on his lips as he leans against the counter. He beckons Gabriel closer to him and the angel-turned-trickster wastes no time in answering it.

“You know I would never let him gank you, right?”

“I have to admit, about ninety-nine percent of the time I'm counting on it.”

“You really shouldn't push him so close to the snapping point, when he finally blows up he doesn't do so gracefully,” Sam points out.

“He's a hunter and one of the infamous Winchesters. If I thought he took _anything_ gracefully, I certainly would've tested it by now. Go watch your brother, we don't want him getting in trouble... _I_ wouldn't be Cas's target if he does. After all... _you're_ the alpha in this relationship.”

Sam opens his mouth to argue, yet finds the comment to be true. In any animal 'relationship' the alphas rarely have quarrels with the omegas. With a groan, he trudges after his brother. For once he wishes Dean didn't have such a knack for pissing off the supernatural. He's hoping his status as the moon's child will at least give him a bit of leverage when it comes to keeping his brother safe. Suddenly, it occurs to him that Kushiel is an angel. He doesn't deal with angels, Dean does. He wonders if the fact she's a fallen angel will make any difference.

“Sammy, stop dragging your feet, I'm hungry!” Dean calls back. “If you're not in the garage by the time I start the Impala, I'm leaving your ass here!”

“I wouldn't!” Sam responds with a smirk. “I stole your wallet when you were talking to Gabriel. If you leave now, you won't have any money to get food!”

“... Damn you, Sammy!” Dean shouts after a long pause.

Sam can only assume the pause was used to check his pockets. With a good-natured chuckle, the taller hunter strolls into the garage and gets in the passenger side of the Impala. Dean is glaring at him from the driver's seat, obviously miffed anything was stolen from him by his younger brother. They've both been trained for stuff like that, however they've never used it on each other... that's a bit of an unspoken rule.

The town nearby is quiet, even though it's noon there doesn't seem to be much activity. Normally there might be a quiet buzz about it; people rushing from one area to another, or perhaps the small group from a business out for lunch. Today there just doesn't seem to be anything... it's like a ghost town. Dean inches the Imapla along the street, a slight dip of worry upon his brow.

“Maybe we should head back,” Sam murmurs. “I'm not getting a good feeling here.”

“... Me neither,” Dean frowns. “But if they need help, we should at least try and figure this out.”

“Dean, we can't be tracked by anything supernatural,” the taller male informs. “If they're here it isn't on purpose. Maybe they're just hoping we'll show up here, or something. Either way... I'm really feeling we're the ones they're looking for. We should get out of here while we still can. If we don't show up anytime soon, they'll go away.”

“And if they don't?”

The long haired male is quiet at that, a matching frown touching his own lips. He doesn't like to take chances like that either. These are innocent people and most of them they know from their visits into town, he can't stand thinking they might be harmed or possessed. What could they do, though? If they try to help and this really is a trap meant for them, he'll be placing Dean in unnecessary danger. If they do nothing and it isn't a trap, hundreds of people will die.

“... We should call Cas and Gabe,” he decides. “They'll at least be able to tell us what we're dealing with, okay? After we figure out that, we'll proceed with caution.”

“We don't need them to help!”

“Okay, smart ass. What happens if we meet up with whatever this is and it's a pack animal? Or maybe we left the only weapon that can kill it back at the bunker. What then?”

“... Do we really have to give Gabriel another reason to lock us up?” Dean whines. “You know how I get when I can't leave at will.”

Before Sam can respond, the car is stopped by force. In a panic the two look around, finding someone from town holding up the back bumper. Someone else is walking toward the driver's side door, Sam immediately grabbing Dean's shoulder and pulling him away. Dean is shoved into the backseat as Sam fights with the passenger side door. Just as their attacker is fighting with the lock, he gets his door open and tumbles out. Dean, wide eyed and openly fearful for the first time in years, forces the back door open and reaches for Sam. The person in the back is beginning to tip that side of the car upward, keeping the older Winchester within the car.

“Dean!” Sam shouts. “Hang on, I'm coming!”

He runs around the vehicle, sending a plea to Gabriel for some help. When he reaches the other side, he watches as their attacker digs in the car to grab a hold of Dean. From the window, he can see him clinging to the handle above the door and kicking at the reaching hands. Without thinking past the fact his brother is in danger, Sam tackles the person at the driver side door. They hit the asphalt hard, skin tearing at the contact and leaving tracks of blood on clothing.

“Leave him alone!” Sam shouts.

He balls a fist and brings it up to strike, yet with a wave of a hand he's thrown off and sent tumbling. A grunt of pain fills the air when he collides with another car parked on the side of the road. He can hear Dean calling his name from the Impala.

“Wow, you looked like a skipping stone,” Gabriel comments from his side. “You okay, love?”

“... G-get Dean.”

“Cas is here, he can handle him. I'm more worried about you.”

They're startled when Dean cries out, the two turning to watch the first assailant lifting the car up higher. He turns it on the side and starts shaking it violently. Dean's hold is torn from him, his body slamming hard against the windows. Finally, he's shaken from the car and hits the pavement. More bodies exit the buildings around them, all of them with glowing blue eyes.

“Okay, _now_ I'm more worried about Dean,” Gabriel admits. “Cas! We've got a town full of company! Grab Dean and let's get the fuck out of here!”

Castiel glances around, only taking his eyes off his adversary a moment... but that's all that's needed. Gabriel curses himself immediately for distracting the younger angel, hurrying to his side when the angel blade is thrust toward his chest. Dean looks Castiel's way just in time to see the light flashing from the blow. His green eyes go wide with hurt and sorrow, one hand reaching out for Castiel though his vision is a bit blurry.

Thankfully, and unexpectedly, the brunette isn't the one to fall. He caught the attack at the last minute and grabbed a hold of the blade. Gabriel breathes out a sigh of intense relief, torn between helping Castiel and protecting Sam. When the younger angel quickly hurries toward Dean, however, he takes the later path. Sam is just getting to his feet, still disoriented and unsteady.

The green-eyed hunter forces himself to his feet, stumbling forward to reach Castiel halfway. Just as he's about to fall into the other's arms in exhaustion and pain, there's a strange force that slams into Castiel and throws him backward. It's just like Sam, so the hunter can only assume it's another angel. He turns around to see a woman with black hair and icy blue eyes watching him. One of her hands is outstretched toward Castiel. Something within Dean sparks when their eyes connect, a fury unlike any he's ever known before erupting within the green pools of his eyes.

“Kushiel,” he murmurs venomously.

“You must be Dean Winchester, the human that ruined one of our most promising warriors,” she remarks snidely.

“Well, well. A fallen angel turning gossip hound through 'angel radio'. Can't say I'm surprised, even the fallen don't like to be out of the loop, am I right?” he comments just as snidely.

“You have as much of a mouth as they say,” she glowers. “I'll be happy to remedy that by cutting out your tongue.”

“But, that's one of my best qualities,” Dean grins cockily. “Not that you'll ever learn why.”

Kushiel steps closer to Dean, mostly to be intimidating, and he takes a step toward her as well. Though it's not like him to back down, it's certainly not like him to do more than stand his ground. This action alone worries Sam. He just knows his brother is about to do something stupid and he's too far away to stop it.

“My aren't you the fearless one,” she teases. “You really think you can kill me? That all you need is an angel blade and a good opening? Well then, come on, little hunter. Come and strike me down.”

“Do I seriously look that stupid?” Dean scoffs. “You can't be killed by an angel blade, you're protected by ancient magic. You're just looking to get me closer so you can kill me... or capture me, according to our resident female.”

It would seem that's exactly what she was hoping for, as her cocky expression quickly turns to acid. A glance to her right reveals Gabriel beside Sam, both males slowly inching closer to the exchange. Her eyes enlarge, though only just, and a small smirk plays on her lips. She knows Gabriel just as well as Lucifer does.

“Gabriel, how nice to see you. I was wondering how he would know such a thing,” she remarks. “Are you revealing all my secrets, little brother?”

“Awe, you know me better than that,” Gabriel waves off. “Though, I may have invested a good amount of time and energy within the Winchester brothers. You know, I've always been particularly overprotective of my investments.”

“Indeed. No more than the rest of the angels, I'm sure. Speaking of which, it's come to my attention you may have something I'm looking for... something for my own investment.”

“Can't imagine what that might be.”

Her gaze narrows, knowing he's feigning ignorance. They all know she's talking about the key to Lucifer's cell, however Dean still can't remember what he did with it. Even if he did add it to the storage area, he probably wouldn't be able to find it for the next year. It's a mess down there. Her eyes trail to the hunter closest to her, noting immediately that Gabriel and Sam move closer the minute her eyes are off them. She decides to keep her gaze upon those two, knowing Dean won't back away anytime soon.

“You know where the key is, don't you?”

“Nope, but apparently you don't either. Which means we're probably closer to finding it than you are,” Sam remarks smartly. “So I guess it's a race to the finish, huh? If we find the key first, you're never going to release Lucifer. Chances are, we'll find it first. Then what are you going to do?”

Kushiel growls under her breath, obviously finished with all the pleasantries. Dean is close to her, only a car's length away, and Castiel is much further than she is. Though Gabriel and Sam have tried to close the distance, they're still half a car's length more than she is away. She can easily reach him and be gone before they can... well, before Sam can. It's Gabriel she's worried about, in all honesty. She's heard the rumors of his amazing escape against Lucifer, that takes some serious power no angel should have. Granted he had enough to create a vessel for himself, however even that should be extremely difficult. He makes it look so easy when it should be a terrible strain.

He watches her closely, body looking to be relaxed. She knows, however, that he's just waiting for the slightest flinch of intention to move. She was never the fastest angel, Gabriel took that spot, yet she has enough on her side to keep him busy. She turns her back to Dean, sending a pointed look to her army of civilians, and they charge in. Gabriel immediately covers Sam, just as she predicted, and she rushes Dean.

The green-eyed hunter dances away from her reach, the fact she's just waiting to get a hand on him racing through his head. The only consolation is she can't fly, which means one touch won't have him ending up somewhere far away from Cas and Sam... and Gabriel, but that's not really a bad thing sometimes.

“Dean, come this way!” Castiel shouts. “We have to get you out of here!”

“Block his way!” Kushiel orders.

Everyone repositions themselves, keeping Dean far away from Castiel. The hunter is getting pissed, though a part of him is beginning to panic. It's a very small part that's overshadowed by his irritation, so he doesn't worry too much about it. He pushes his way back toward Castiel, yet keeps getting shoved Kushiel's way. Finally, she grabs his upper arm and flings him to the right... right into the black van she parked behind. She may not be able to fly, but she's learned how to drive in her time on Earth. She jumps in the driver's seat and takes off, burning rubber on the asphalt.

“Dean!” Castiel yells.

One by one, the angels leave their hosts. Though it's difficult to find a vessel, these were just temporary... they just needed to get around the Winchesters without arousing suspicion. Now that they have what they were after, they return to wherever they left their original vessels waiting. Gabriel watches them, holding Sam's face tight to his chest. It's an awkward position for them both, however he doesn't want the light blinding the younger Winchester. He may have been able to handle it before, but his eyes should be more sensitive to heavenly light now. It's like the sun and his eyes attract it to reflect the luminescence. Since it's new to the other, it'll be too much of a shock to handle at this time.

He releases Sam when the light stops, the other having moved onto his knees to get more comfortable. He searches the area of unconscious bodies to locate Dean, finding no trace of him. Castiel is standing amidst the bodies with his eyes closed, searching hard for Dean's presence. He's being blocked by Kushiel, a quiet curse leaving his lips at the revelation. He won't be finding his mate anytime soon. Sam is just about to approach him when Dean screams in the back of his mind.

Dean can feel the heat beginning to build within his veins. Kushiel is too busy driving to pay attention to him. He's in a cage anyway, he shouldn't be able to get out on his own. Though the metal around him keeps him from attacking her or getting away, the heat within him is making him wish he at least had help sitting with him. Why couldn't she kidnap Sam, too?

The hunter lies back on the van's floor, green eyes pinned to the roof in hopes it'll distract him. They've been driving for a long while, which means they're likely in the middle of nowhere. A soft dripping sound echoes in his sensitive ears, his brows dipping in question. It's been hours, maybe a day or two, since they left and the heat started. He feels as though he's a fireball eating up the oxygen and burning white. There's a groan from the metal... and then the floor falls from beneath him. With a stifled cry, Dean hits the street on the hunk of metal beneath him. There are sparks flying around him as he scraps along the ground at eighty miles an hour, the metal screaming as it spins out of control. After too long, he comes to a stop and pukes all over the street. The van continues on it's way, leaving Dean alone in the middle of nowhere.


	25. Safety Behind Enemy Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freed from Kushiel through unpredictable circumstances, Dean is lost in the middle of nowhere. He tries to get a hold of Cas, yet Kushiel's blocked his link and even his phone calls to Sam. Left with no other choice and needing a safe place to stay, he calls on the only other person he feels he can trust... Hel. In the meantime, the Winchesters' bloodlines are acting up again. Kept apart, Sam is unable to heal Dean's overheated blood. Because of that, it's burning through his skin and boiling his blood. In the care of Fenrir, as it's the last place anyone would look for him, Dean learns just how powerful his bond with Sam is... and that if they're not united soon they won't only die... their deaths will take out entire towns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my wonderful readers! I decided to update a bit earlier than last time ^^; Sorry about that, but I've been learning how to drive and my uncle only has the weekends off to teach me =D Anyway, I hope you're enjoying the fic! I wish I could just post it all at once, but... well... then what would you read? I'd like to ask, are the chapter summaries helping out any? Do they tell too much or is it just right?

Dean stares up at the sky, cloudless and bright blue. The sun glares down upon him, a punishing heat still running rampant through his body. It seems worse this time, however it might be because there's no Castiel or Sam to make him feel better. There's no bedroom to retreat to, or bed to bury himself on. He sighs in frustration and trudges on. He wonders what Sam is doing, if they're looking for him, and why Castiel hasn't arrived out of nowhere to retrieve him.

“Fuck this, I need someplace safe to crash,” he mutters as he pulls out his phone and dials a number.

“Good afternoon, this is the afterlife,” a soft secretarial tone remarks. “If you're looking for Heaven, you took a wrong turn. If you're afraid this is Hell, you better hope you lived a moral life. Should you be a supernatural creature... WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY REALM!”

“Uh... Hel? When did you get a job as a secretary?” Dean asks a bit at a loss for words.

“Dean? Oh, I missed you!” Hel replies excitedly. “My secretary is on vacation, so I'm taking over. I haven't been able to watch you guys for a bit, how are you?”

“Lost in the middle of nowhere with no one answering my prayers,” the hunter gripes. “Kushiel had me captive and it seems there's a block on my bond with Castiel, I can't reach him. Can you pick me up? I'll tell you all about it when I'm in a safe place.”

“You're seriously gonna hate me for this, but I can't leave Helheim right now,” she responds regretfully. “I can send someone to pick you up, but you won't like who. The only person visiting me at the moment is Fenrir.”

“... That's fine, just make sure he knows his place... or I will,” he remarks in hostility. “I'm in no mood for his advances.”

She agrees and hangs up. He continues on his walk alongside the road, boredom running rampant along with his frustration. It isn't long before he hears howling from the forest alongside him. There's shuffling within the foliage, and then a pack of wolves charges out to surround him. Dean doesn't even flinch, he's far too exhausted for this shit. From the trees, an enormous figure hunkers out between the thick trunks.

The wolves bow down to him and scoot away to leave him room, the huge wolf sitting before Dean with hunger in his eyes. He recognizes the look in those gold eyes, a scowl answering it at once. He crosses his arms over his chest with a huff, cocking a hip in a mimic of feminine attitude he'll deny until the day he dies.

“Fenrir,” he greets with a warning growl.

“Dean,” the wolf answers gruffly. “Hel said you need help. How can I be of service to my baby brother's bitch?”

“I would ask you to take me to Castiel, but I have no clue where he might be. Right now I just want to be safe, so can you please take me to Helheim? At least I know I'm safe with Hel.”

“You give her too much credit,” he snickers. “You haven't seen her on a bad day yet.”

“You haven't seen _me_ on one! Now please take me there. She can get a message to Gabriel, I know she can.”

Fenrir steps forward and curls around the hunter. He bows his upper body, nudging Dean's backside with his nose to push him onto his back. With just that motion, he can feel Kushiel's power crackling around the hunter. He sniffs in a short sneeze and lifts himself back up before bounding back into the forest. Dean is injured, rather badly, and he needs attention now. Even if he had tried to call his brother or Castiel, which he's sure the hunter did, the call would give him nothing but a disconnected tone. Kushiel's block is a strong one and Fenrir is beginning to worry about the trouble his little angel of a sibling has gotten himself into.

Castiel is frantic, his mind stretching out across states to locate Dean. Gabriel has been trying to coax him out of his trance for a day now, his worry beginning to grow more for the younger angel than for the lost hunter. They're currently in the Impala, Sam at the wheel. The minute they noticed Dean was gone and Sam felt the cold of his own skin growing to counter the heat in Dean's, they jumped in the car to follow the van. They weren't positive which way it went, but driving is the best solution they have at the moment. Hopefully they come across some clue as to Dean's whereabouts.

“Can you find Kushiel?” Sam asks Gabriel.

“... No, she's hidden well,” he sighs. “I wish I could be of help, Sam, but... she's a very smart angel. She's had centuries to learn how to hide her presence and years to learn how to do so in the human world.”

“Great. Do you think Dean could get away?”

“I honestly don't know. As smart as Kushiel is, Dean could actually be smarter. Especially since he's had so much experience outsmarting the supernatural creatures he hunts.”

“Okay, so... say he _does_ get away... where would he go?”

There's silence in the car at that question. Even Castiel, who's drawn himself out of his trance to listen, can't come up with an answer to that. Dean probably wouldn't know where he is, so he wouldn't know how to get back to the bunker. If his phone is damaged in the escape he wouldn't be able to call them, if it isn't the block would likely kill any phone call to one of them. Unfortunately, they can't think of anyone Dean would trust enough to run to in his time of need. The only ones he's ever trusted that much are in the Impala. An air of hopelessness falls over them.

Helheim isn't much different from the last time Dean visited. Fortunately, they arrive within the village square this time so he doesn't have to walk through the fields. A few children hurry away from the fountain at the sight of the huge wolf, all of them rushing back to a woman sitting on a bench. Fenrir ignores them and heads into the glass castle. At the entrance hall, he bows down so Dean can get back on his feet. His entire form shivers and begins to grow smaller, slowly transforming back into the body of the dark haired man.

“Hel is in the throne room,” he points out. “It's almost noon, so she's likely dealing with realm problems. That means we can't bother her until after we eat and we won't see her until we're called to the dinning room. Until then, we can get you patched up in the infirmary down the street and talk.”

“Talk? About what?” Dean wonders.

“I have a few questions,” he answers shortly. “Come on, you don't want any of those burns getting infected.”

“... Burns?”

Dean looks down at his body, noting harsh red areas where his skin has been burned. They're at least second degree in some places, mostly first, and his body is shivering from the cold sweat on his flesh. His veins are still filled with heat, but it's worse and feels more like magma pushing it's way to the surface. He can see a few patches that have started to bleed, green eyes growing wide when the crimson starts bubbling from the open wound. He feels lightheaded in seconds, practically passing out right there.

Fenrir notes this, one hand gripping Dean's upper arm to hold him up. He makes sure it's in a nonthreatening and non-intimate manner so the hunter doesn't lash out at him. His careful actions keep the hunter from getting violent, Dean allowing the touch if only to stay on his feet and keep his pride. The last thing he needs is to pass out for the wolf to carry him bridal style; he nearly throws up in his mouth at the thought.

The infirmary is filled with souls waiting to be patched up. They're mostly children that played too rough and hurt one another, however a few are the soldiers that work for Hel in the palace. Fenrir explains to the doctor who Dean is and he's taken to a free cot immediately. The curtain is pulled in haste to keep others from bothering the important guest.

“You don't look so good,” Fenrir frowns. “Is something else wrong? This seems to be more than just a couple burns.”

“It's just too hot,” Dean murmurs a bit disoriented. “What did you want to talk about?”

“... Kushiel is after Castiel, isn't she?”

It's a surprising question and it takes Dean a few moments to absorb it. The wolf god can see this, can see the struggle of comprehension within green eyes, and realizes just how bad off Dean is. He may be one of the greatest hunters in the history of hunters, but right now he's just an ailing omega. He's angry at his brother for leaving him vulnerable, however he understands how it could happen.

“She is,” Dean finally answers. “She wants to release Lucifer, her mate, from his prison. I guess she thinks Castiel is the only one that can stop her.”

“That's why she targeted you,” he states. “How did you get away?”

“The van floor melted and fell out,” Dean whispers out as his eyes start to close. “It was so hot... so hot... and it gets hotter every second.”

The wolf god watches Dean's cracked and dry lips as he talks, the hunter so much less than what he was at the party. Even though he's not that feisty and lively hunter of before, he's still so beautiful in his suffering. It's a dangerous thing for an omega, which only gives him one more reason to acknowledge why this one was made for Castiel. He would never harm the hunter just to see this stunning side of him... he would probably suffer alongside him.

He reaches out to touch Dean's forehead, panicking when the heat nearly burns his own hand. Whatever that angel did to him, it would seem he's boiling from the inside out. He quickly rushes to retrieve a doctor, demanding they help Dean or suffer his wrath. He may want the omega for himself, but he'll never have him and he knows that. Right now, though he'd rather die than admit it, he's worried about his little angel sibling and that heart that's far too big for disappointment. If something happens to Dean, it just might be Castiel's death. As much as he picks on the runt of the litter, he only does it to strengthen the little daddy's boy. That's the way it is with the Norse gods, all they have is each other and they have to keep each other strong.

Carefully, he wipes away the sweat gathering on Dean's brow and sighs. The hunter has fallen into the dark bliss of unconsciousness, which means nothing can touch him right now. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean whatever illness this is can't ravage his body. As the doctor checks over Dean, Fenrir sighs and pulls a chair closer to the bed. He'll watch over his angel sibling's mate in his absence. After all... Dean is family now and family is all the children of Loki have.

Sam is shivering up a storm. It's so bad, in fact, that they had to stop at a hotel so he wouldn't crash. At the moment, he's wrapped up in two heavy quilts with Gabriel holding him tightly. He created a fireplace to light, the heat quickly overtaking the room. If Castiel weren't an angel he'd be dying of heat stroke about now.

“How is he?” the younger angel wonders.

“He feels like death,” Gabriel frowns. “It doesn't seem to be going away either, just getting worse. Until Dean can stop feeling the vengeance he does against Kushiel, both of them are in danger of detaching from their vessels.”

“You mean they'll die,” Castiel remarks.

“Well... I guess that would depend on your definition of the word. On the bright side... they won't stay that way! But, yeah... basically, they'll die.”

           “P-p-p-perfect,” Sam shivers out. “We n-n-need to find D-D-D-Dean b-b-before I sh-sh-sh-sh-shiver off all m-my w-w-w-w-weight.”

“Yeah, you guys really need to learn how to control this shit. Having to stop traveling because you're caught in your own personal winter without a snowsuit is a bit annoying.”

Sam elbows Gabriel in the stomach hard for that remark, the former archangel yelping in pain. They revel in the fact Kushiel doesn't have the key she's looking for, it's the only bright side of this whole ordeal, and Sam remembered seeing it in the bunker a long while ago. That means the fallen angel won't find it... like ever. Their only problem now is the fact she has Dean, which is a rather huge bargaining chip.

Gabriel runs his hand through Sam's long hair, shaking out flakes of frost onto the quilts with a chuckle. Castiel can't seem to find humor is the other's antics, his mind too chaotic with less than hopeful thoughts. All he can think about is how the angels he knew would torture Dean for no reason more than he's Castiel's mate, how those methods pale in comparison to the types Kushiel would've used ages ago.

“Cas, sit down and relax,” Gabriel says softly. “I know this is hard for you, but you have to remember who Kushiel is dealing with. Dean isn't only a hunter like she thinks, he's the child of the sun. he might be vulnerable at this moment in time, but that's only worse off for her. Should he reach the point he needs to separate from his vessel, it could cause as much damage as an explosion. Wherever he is, it could be decimated at any moment. Right now, Kushiel is in more danger than Dean.”

Fenrir is asleep at Dean's beside, the hunter starting awake abruptly. That was the most vivid dream he's ever had, but also so very strange. He swore he was looking through Sam's eyes, wrapped in blankets with Gabriel snuggling against him. Castiel was pacing the room. The conversation was about him and this whole situation. When his body opened its lips to speak, he heard Sam's voice instead of his. He never talked, but he was there... wasn't he? Maybe he really was looking through Sam's eyes. It hurts his brain just thinking about it.

“You're awake,” Fenrir murmurs sleepily has he reaches over to touch the hunter's forehead. “Your fever has dropped drastically. You almost feel like you walked outside in the snow.”

“... I was cold in my dream,” Dean comments in a daze.

“At least you're cooling off,” the wolf sighs in relief. “Your injuries have been cleaned and wrapped, you've been out for a couple hours. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, starved.”

Confused and a little off balance, Dean allows Fenrir to help him onto his feet. The wolf god is acting so much different than at the party, it's certainly placing the hunter on edge. It's like the calm before the storm and he's nervous about being vulnerable around the wolf.

“Don't worry,” the raven comments as though sensing the unease. “You're no fun to chase when you're not going all out. I'll be a good pup until you're back with Castiel. Besides, the only reason I chase you is because he's there to challenge.”

“... I'm not following.”

“Just... don't read too much into it,” he bristles. “Castiel isn't here, you're an omega, you need an alpha taking care of you while you're sick. I'm family, I'm also the oldest alpha, so I'll be taking care of you. That's all you need to know.”

“You're lucky I can't find it in me to punch you,” Dean grumbles.

He catches a light snickering at that, the wolf shifting his hold on Dean to find a stronger grip, and then they're heading back into the glass palace. It's well past noon and Hel is looking for them in the entrance hall. When Fenrir drags Dean in, acting as the hunter's crutch, she begins to spaz with worry. He waves her off and leads Dean into the dining room.

The hunter is dropped into a high backed chair, the long stretch of table leading away from him. Fenrir seats himself at Dean's left and Hel takes the chair on his right, neither of them ready to give the ailing hunter space. Unlike her wolfish brother, Hel knows a bit of what's wrong with Dean. She knows where he got those burns, why he was doused in cold sweat, yet she can't figure out why. She certainly can't start asking questions with Fenrir sitting right there. He may not be the smartest of her siblings, but he's no idiot.

“Dean, I heard Kushiel is looking for the key to Lucifer's cage,” she starts. “Do you remember what happened to it?”

“I gave Death back his ring,” Dean shrugs. “And stuck the other three in storage. She'll never get to them. Even if she manages to get Death's, she won't be able to create the key again without the other three... I'm not worried.”

“Yes, but... does Sam know where they are?” she wonders carefully. “He isn't aware you're safe, she could use that to her advantage. He'd give them up to get you back, wouldn't he?”

“... Without hesitation,” the hunter groans. “We have to get a message to them! They need to know I'm safe, but if I return to them Kushiel will immediately attack them again! What am I supposed to do? I can't stay here, the punishment fields are beginning to make me sick, and she might expect me to take refuge in the afterlife. I mean, it's not like this is the first time I've been jettisoned to the afterlife.”

Hel glances to Fenrir, who seems to be deep in thought. His expression is contemplating, something she's seen on him during strategic councils, and she's wondering what he might come up with. Dean has time to really study the dark haired man, not impressed with the features of a warrior in the least. As his eyes drift down the wolf, he catches sight of a metal band on his ankle.

“What's that?” he wonders in a whisper to Hel.

“Well, Fenrir isn't really on Odin's good side. Apparently it's prophecized he'll kill him. Anyway, to keep that from happening he kept Fenrir locked up in Asgard. After a while, the world turned modern and he needed him to keep the majority of the werewolves in line. Needless to say, his cage turned into an ankle bracelet that'll monitor his every move.”

“Wow... not a bad trade off,” Dean murmurs.

“He's rather happy about it.”

The two sit in silence a little longer, waiting for the revelation the lupine male might come up with. As they wait, Dean takes the opportunity to eat something. That dream is beginning to weigh on his mind, especially after his amped up appetite when he woke. He's beginning to think perhaps that conversation really did take place around the time he passed out. If that's so, his bond with Sam is much stronger than they first thought. Then again, what's new? It would seem everything is worse or stronger than they first think.

Just as he's finishing up his food, Fenrir hums to himself and regards Dean carefully. Obviously he's trying his hardest to think up a way to relay his plan without pissing off the hunter. That doesn't make the green-eyed male any more hopeful than he was when he arrived.

“I have an idea,” Fenrir states carefully.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Dean comments. “You were sort of giving off an expression crossed between 'oh shit I'm gonna puke' and 'I'm about to piss off a psycho bitch'. Which are you playing toward?”

“Listen, I know this isn't your favorite idea,” he frowns. “It sure as hell isn't mine! But at least it's a plan! It's common knowledge I'm the least favorite on Odin's list, that he keeps me on a short leash and I like alone in Asgard's fucking forest! No one comes to my den, it's still just a cage without a fucking door, and now rumor's spread that I'm chasing your tail just to piss off Castiel. Kushiel won't think to look for you in my den. She probably won't even think twice if Castiel should drop by, because he's the only sibling I have that ever did. Granted it was normally to pass on messages from our dad, but he was still the only one that did. That's the best place for you right now.”

“I hate to say this, but he's right, Dean,” Hel sighs. “He's the oldest of the alpha siblings and you're unable to be with Castiel at the moment. It's his responsibility to protect you when Castiel can't. You'll be safe with him, or I'll throw him in my punishment fields for a fucking year.”

“You're the least of my concerns,” Fenrir scoffs. “You think I haven't noticed how much Castiel's power has grown over the years? Especially now that he's with Dean. That outburst at the reunion was completely unforeseen! I wouldn't have expected that had twenty prophets told me the same thing every year for a century!”

Dean rolls his eyes, setting his chin in his palm. He lets the siblings bicker, smoothing out the plan in the manner they're used to, and then closes his eyes. He thinks about Sam, wonders if he's doing okay, and slowly starts to drift away within his mind. He doesn't realize he's passed out on the tabletop.

It's like a light turning on, the strange presence he only felt once before, and when the switch flicks Sam comes to an immediately halt. His chill receded after a short moment of unconsciousness before, however his skin is still cold... just not icy. When his footsteps stop, Gabriel grips Castiel's shoulder to bring them both to a standstill.

They've been trying to locate Dean, so the hunt for Kushiel's followers started when Sam woke. The only reason the angels are going along with it, however, is because they don't think they'll find anyone... and Sam needs something to do. When he's worried he can be as bad as Dean. The trickster carefully steps up to Sam's side.

“Everything okay, hon?” he asks carefully.

“... I can feels someone in my head,” Sam murmurs. “A presence that wasn't there before. I had felt it once before when I was shivering so hard I couldn't talk, but I passed out before I could tell you.”

“Maybe you should meet it halfway and find out who it is,” he comments. “I mean, I highly doubt it's Kushiel... I would know. Maybe it's your mom! She might be able to help find Dean!”

Those blue eyes of so many hues light up at the thought. However, Sam doesn't know how to meet the presence halfway and tells Gabriel as much. Being such a helpful mate, the trickster decides to leapfrog into Sam's mind and check it out. Unfortunately, the presence is Dean's and he's not there in a solid form. His mind is literally connected to Sam's, which means his presence is nothing more than a feeling... much the same as Castiel received.

“Nothing,” Gabriel frowns upon his return. “Can you still feel it?”

“Yeah,” Sam informs. “It's really weird, it feels just like... Dean.”

“That is weird,” Gabriel nods. “Who would want to feel _his_ presence when he's not around, I would _welcome_ the vacation.”

“That's not funny!” Castiel snaps. “You know I'm not taking his disappearance well, why would you say something like that! I would give anything to have him here with me...”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” the trickster immediately apologizes. “I wasn't thinking, that was pretty low... even for me. I won't say anything like that again.”

It's clear Castiel doesn't believe him, however Gabriel really is sorry. Had Sam been the one taken he would've decimated the entire town... maybe even the whole country. Though he's hiding his anxiety well, it's clear to both the men that know him he's about ready to break down. He turns away from the two and starts to walk down the street. They were only searching the town for any lingering angels. Since their search turned up nothing half an hour ago, they started back toward the hotel they're staying at. Just as he's about to turn the corner, Sam can hear him yelling in panic. He's scrambling to get away from something out of sight, a large ball of black fur pouncing on him with a snarl.

“Rabid wolf!” the angel cries out. “Mayday! Mayday!”

“... What the fuck?” Sam murmurs.

“... It's one of Fenrir's pack,” Gabriel sighs in exasperation. “Hang on, Cas, I'm coming!”

The wolf has a tight grip on the angel's pant leg, shaking roughly without harming the brunette. It would seem it's only playing, or trying to get his attention. Same feels bad for the guy, it's painfully obvious he's had it rough with his second family. Especially when he's near tears at the sight of his brother's wolf. Must be centuries of abuse triggering the panic attack he's suffering now, which is weird considering all the shit the angel's been through dealing with his Heavenly family.

The wolf is pulled off Castiel by the scruff of his neck, Gabriel holding tight to it as Castiel scrambles away on his hands and knees. Sam turns from 'friend and brother' to 'human shield' in seconds. The taller man shakes his head in disbelief, wondering just what Fenrir did to Castiel to make him act like this.

“Hey, he's got a note tied to his leg,” the trickster comments as he pulls it off. “It says, 'dear baby Casandra, I heard about you poor little hunter bitch. Don't worry, Kushiel doesn't have him. He escaped somehow... still hasn't revealed that little Houdini trick, but I'm hoping he will soon. I picked him up and brought him to Helheim. He's a little sick, but his fever has come down considerably. Hel and I have decided to relocate him to Asgard, to a place no one ever goes and no one would consider a relevant hiding place. Don't worry, I'll take good care of him until you arrive. He's waiting for you... come quickly... please! He's a little bitch when he's sick and he's driving me crazy! Your big brother, Fenrir.”

“... Fenrir has my mate!” Castiel shouts in a panic. “Fenrir? Fenrir, my sibling bent on claiming Dean for his own?”

“Calm down, Cas,” Sam sighs. “I'm sure it's not as bad as you're making it out to be. I mean, he's still family and Dean wouldn't go with him if he didn't trust him.”

“I would be more worried about where he took him,” Gabriel frowns. “He underlined 'no one ever goes and no one would consider a relevant hiding place'. Obviously he's assuming you would know the answer to that. I mean, Kushiel knows Dean has traveled to the afterlife more than once. It's not too much of a stretch to think he'd seek refuge there. She can find people to travel to Helheim and retrieve him, so it's the next best step to relocate him to the last place anyone would think to look for him.”

The younger angel has begun to pace, the wolf once held by Gabriel happily trotting after him like an overeager puppy. It's a strange sight for Sam to take in, yet he ignores it in favor of thinking on where no one would look for Dean in Asgard... and why he wouldn't just come to them. Gabriel can tell what he's thinking, it's not difficult what with the worry lines and screaming thoughts. He sighs and glances up toward the light blue sky filled with puffy white clouds. The day isn't that bad and the storm that was supposed to hit bypassed them. The smell of it still lingers in the air.

“He's not going to rejoin us because it'll place us in danger again,” he remarks quietly. “Kushiel will look for him with us first, attacking whenever close enough to regain possession of Dean. He's her best bargaining chip against Cas. Dean knows how much danger he'll place us in, so he's going to stay off Kushiel's radar by hiding out in Asgard.”

“But where?” Sam bristles. “I can't think of anywhere in Asgard someone won't think to look for him. I mean... if they even think to look for him there.”

“... I know where,” Castiel sighs. “Only a few people even know where it's located, let alone that it exists. Kushiel would never dare to step near it, not even for Dean.”

Gabriel's eyes light up in realization, his lips moving in comments of pride. He never thought his lupine child to be that devious. Once Castiel has a hand on Sam's shoulder, the trickster takes the other and they're gone. They can only hope Kushiel can't follow them.

Dean is lounging in Fenrir's home. It's set up rather nice, the furniture more modern and set up like a woman designed his living space. He'd bet his baby Hel had a hand in it. The raven haired man is in wolf form, curled up by the entrance to his former cage. Though he seems for all the world like he's asleep, Dean's tried to sneak outside five times already only to be stopped by a paw or tail. Needless to say, he's resigned himself to the fact he's trapped inside.

The heat from before has begun to creep back under his skin, a light sheen of sweat causing his flesh to glisten. The mountains outside are filled with trees and strange animals, which only makes him want to get out more, and the sky is perfectly blue. It's almost as though the world was turned upside down and the ocean is stretched out above them... it's beautiful and reminds Dean of Castiel's endless blue depths.

“I'm so fucking bored,” he growls out.

“You're ill, I'm not letting you run about the mountains when you're sick,” Fenrir comments with a snarling tone. “You'll stay put and wait for your mate to arrive. I don't know what sort of sickness you're dealing with, but perhaps he will.”

“I can't believe you don't even have a fucking television set here.”

The wolf sighs and lifts his enormous head to stare at the hunter. His golden eyes are shining bright within the approaching light of dusk. Dean is tired, the exhaustion has left dark rings beneath his eyes, and Fenrir is beginning think whatever illness he has is slowly killing him. Castiel has always been the healer within the siblings' ranks, Fenrir can only destroy. He wishes he were capable of the care Castiel doles out, capable of the healing powers the angel used to use on his ailing siblings after nasty fights, but he isn't. He regrets that more than anything looking at the hunter now.

“I don't really like spending much time in my former prison,” he murmurs while dropping his head down again. “I'm usually wasting time in Helheim, Hel's guards are pretty fun to mess with and I like helping out with the punishment fields. She even lets me run amok in the outer town.”

“That doesn't help me now,” the hunter mutters.

“I'll take you hunting later, okay? Settle down and take a damn nap.”

Dean groans in irritation, he buries his face in the overstuffed pillow on the couch and sighs. This is going to be an extremely long witness protection program. Just as he's about to pass out again, he feels a chilly presence that washes over his skin like liquid mint. It feels wonderful and he's automatically drawn to it. The hunter stands up and heads toward the entrance, rousing the wolf once again. This time, however, Fenrir doesn't stop him. He glances outside the prison-turned-den.

“About time you got here,” the wolf snarls. “You spoiled your little bitch way too much, he's a fucking nightmare! When exactly does he listen to his alpha?”

“... When it matters,” Castiel smirks. “Hello, De...”

He never gets to finish, as the hunter tackles him to the ground in a tight hug. It's embarrassing and deep down Dean is cursing himself out for the show of weakness, but right now he just wants to be within his mate's arms. Dean practically attacks the angel with kisses, his hands gripping Castiel's shirt tightly so he can't gets away.

“I missed you, too, my light,” Castiel chuckles. “Has Fenrir been caring for you well?”

“Well enough,” he mutters.

“Dean! Your fever has returned,” the brunette gasps as a hand touches Dean's face. “How long has this been going on? How bad is it right now, is your vision blurry?”

“... It's been since Kushiel took me. I think I passed out a couple times, but it was much worse before. I guess my link with Sammy is seriously powerful. When I passed out in the hospital, I had a dream where I was looking through his eyes while you guys talked. He was wrapped in blankets with Gabriel and shivering so badly he could barely talk.”

“... I knew it,” Sam comments. “You were the presence I felt in the back of my mind! You must've been searching out the cure for your fever. Come here, I need to shed this cold... I think the frost in my hair is coming back.”

Sam pulls Dean from the angel's arms, though it's a little bit of a chore this time. The hunter simply doesn't want to let his mate go. Once the taller of the two manages to yank him away, Sam wraps his older brother in his arms and closes his eyes. The chill and the heat mix, redistributing between them until their body heat has evened out.

Once they're back to normal, Dean fights away from Sam and relocates himself back in his mate's embrace. Gabriel stands off to the side, golden eyes watching the scene with a hint of humor. Stronger than the humor, however, is the seriousness. This has to stop. Kushiel is tearing his family apart. As much as she might be inadvertently bringing his children together, Dean and Sam are taking this mini war hard... it just may end up killing them.

“Alright, Dean,” he sighs. “Let's get back home.”

“No way!” the hunter frowns. “I'm staying here. The minute I show up back among humans, Kushiel is gonna be all over me! If the bottom of that van hadn't of melted out, I would never have gotten away from her. I would've continued to get sicker and eventually she would've realized who I really was. This is better, she can't find me here.”

“She can't find you at the bunker, either,” Castiel frowns.

“I can get out and run around here, Cas!” Dean bristles. “I'm not staying locked up in the bunker until she's taken care of, I just can't do it! I need fresh air and clear skies and grass beneath my fucking feet! Please! Don't lock me up again!”

Green pools are filled with sadness and pleading; it breaks the angel's heart. Fenrir looks like he ready to kick Dean out of his den and bid him a not-so-fond farewell, already tired of the cranky bitch that seems to rule every roost he enters. He doesn't mind helping out his family, but he clearly doesn't get along well with omegas like Dean.

“... We'll stay here for now,” Gabriel decides. “We'll figure out a game-plan later, but right now we need to get you two on the same page before this deal with Kushiel kills you both. End of story.”

With that, the trickster marches into the den. He snaps his fingers after a moment, the group just knowing he's turned the former prison into a well stocked safe-house. The lupine male can't complain, whatever his father's ideal home looks like has to be better than the dollhouse Hel made him. He sighs and ushers the rest of his growing family into his den with a paw... this is going to be a long visit.


	26. Inside Our Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucked safely away within Fenrir's den and former prison, the Winchesters are put to the test once more by their mates. Before they can think about facing Kushiel, the two need to learn how to live in balance with one another. Which means it's back to the figurative class room. On a mission to locate the core of their bloodlines and finally learn the secrets to controlling their massive power, Sam and Dean take to their bedrooms to deal with it in the necessary way. As they sleep off the exhaustin that comes with such a task, Cas heads out to meet up with an old friend. Their conversation leaves him wondering if he isn't better off just giving in to Kushiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my wonderful readers! No one has commented on the chapter summaries yet, I would really appreciate it if someone told me how they are. Is there too much to them? Or maybe they give away the perfect amount of information? Please tell me. I would also greatly appreciate it if you would send me opinions on tags, so more people will come across my fic. I'm not very good at picking tags =( I think you've all noticed that. I try to add something with each chapter, but it isn't working well. Anyway, enjoy your update! XD

The den, once a lavishly furnished cave, is now a three bedroom apartment inside. Fenrir is shocked at the sight. There's a living room pit and a breakfast nook in the dining room, a large kitchen complete with a store room, and a bathroom with running water. Dean is quick to dive onto the leather sectional, grabbing up the remote to the flat screen television. He turns on Dr. Sexy and slides down the leather into an acceptable lounging position.

The trickster catches the look of complete awe on his son's face. He keeps forgetting that he rarely uses his power around his children, so of course it would be a surprise to see what one simple snap of the fingers can do. Fenrir slowly ambles around the place, taking everything in like a sponge in the ocean.

“You like it?” he wonders. “It's not the best I've done, but it's comfortable. The bedrooms are pretty good, too. No hard mattresses and freezing floors.”

“It's amazing,” the lupine breathes out. “Hel did what she could with the caves, but this is... you can't even tell there was a cage here.”

“Nope, cages freak me out,” Gabriel waves off. “Don't like the thought of them, they remind me of Lucifer's punishment. Anyway, this will stay like this even after I leave. I hope you like it.”

“... I have running water,” Fenrir comments as he turns on the kitchen sink. “I have running water and... and there are _vents_ , which means I have _heat_!”

“And air conditioning.”

The wolf grins widely, excitement in his golden eyes. He looks like a child that's just been given his first present. The expression warms Gabriel, as he never sees his kids like this. Well... Castiel was always like that, wide eyed and full of wonder. He hasn't changed much over the years, always finding so much meaning in the smallest actions. Perhaps that's why Gabriel favors him, he's a reminder of when Heaven was first created... a reminder of the purity that once filled the clouds there. Sometimes he wishes all his children can feel what he does when looking upon the younger angel, but he knows they probably don't.

The trickster catches sight of Sam in the living room, sitting beside Dean and setting a hand on the older Winchester's. Even from there he can see the two trembling ever so slightly. They've been through a lot together, suffered the death of the other far too many times. Since their bloodlines were unsealed, however, the separation is being taken far worse than anything before.

“Are you two okay?” Castiel wonders as he sits on Dean's other side.

“Yeah, we're fine now,” Sam says in a tone of relief. “I'm just glad we found him safe, that's all. Now we just have to figure out the next move.”

“The next move is to teach you two how to control your abilities,” Gabriel frowns. “I apologize, Fenrir, but... we're not leaving until Sam and Dean learn how to exist in balance. Their new bloodline is far too dangerous for them without training.”

“Bloodline?” the wolf wonders. “You mean... that weird ancient feeling in their core? Seriously? Huh... weird. Hunters that make a living killing supernatural beings... and they're not even human, but supernatural beings. How ironic is that? No wonder they're the best. So, who was the donor of their bloodline?”

“Uh... the sun and moon deities,” the trickster murmurs out.

The silence that takes hold is like a smothering wave, filling up the room and stifling the ability to breath. Hel didn't tell Fenrir this for a reason, so why was Gabriel entrusting the information to his most aggressive child? Castiel grabs Dean's other hand, eyes taking in Fenrir's reaction studiously. He's shocked, that's easy enough to read, but also wary. Golden eyes flick toward the Winchester brothers, filled with fear and something else... maybe a sense of pride? If that's what it is, Dean knows it isn't for him. It's likely pride for Castiel; the baby brother he never thought would be a threat to anyone, the one he pushes constantly to keep strong, the one that's now mated to the child of the sun.

“So that's why he was sick,” Fenrir decides on. “I was wondering how he wasn't dead with a fever that intense.”

“... That's it?” Dean asks cautiously. “You find out I'm _literally_ half the balance of the world... and that's all you have to say?”

“What do you _want_ me to say? You were a fucking _diamond_ before I knew you were the _sun's_ child, do you have any idea how bad her _temper_ can be? We'd kill each other before we got through the first round of sex! Besides, if that woman couldn't find a mate to handle her after all these millenia, what the fuck makes you think I'd be able to handle _you_? That's why you were made for Cassandra over there, because no one else can handle you... _literally_! There isn't a fucking soul... human, supernatural, or otherwise... that can handle you better than him. So no thank you, you're fun to chase but that's as far as I'll go.”

“What the fuck!” Dean snaps. “I'm good enough for you when I'm not Xia's kid, but once you learn I am I'm a piece of shit? Well fuck you, you arrogant mutt!”

“... There's just no winning with him, is there?” Fenrir asks.

Castiel just shrugs, a humored smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Dean prides himself of being able to attract anyone he wants, so being rejected by someone he doesn't is a blow to his pride. Then again, it really shouldn't be. He's acting a bit illogical and that's okay, Castiel would love him no matter the mood he's in. After all... he's dealt with Dean on all sorts of levels, from savior to traitor, and they've managed to cling to one another through it all. He's not worried about the hunter leaving him, just about others trying to force it.

“Okay, let's get started,” Gabriel comments as he rubs his hands together. “We'll begin with theory. Now, in theory, what state of mind do your abilities work best in?”

Sam and Dean groan at the question, their heads falling onto the back of the couch in unison. Fenrir frowns regarding the two in a totally different light. He always heard hunters were dangerous and could take down a god without breaking a sweat, especially the Winchester brothers, but these two... they're just overgrown children that happen to be good with guns. He wonders why he ever feared them... and then remembers his last day or so with Dean. The lupine shudders at the unbidden memory, he had hoped the trauma of caring for such a feisty omega would've been repressed by now.

Dean is quiet, the room around him still and silent. His emerald eyes are closed, his ears focusing on the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat. Not too far from him, he hears a second heartbeat... it belongs to Castiel. The brunette angel watches him soundlessly, those focused pools of incredible blue never drifting from the hunter's form. His gaze is as intense as always and it brings a soft smirk to Dean's lips.

“You're supposed to be concentrating,” Castiel points out.

“I _am_! It's not my fault you can't stay out of my head.”

In his mind, the hunter slowly counts down. He knows what's about to come. In fact, he's counting on it. Anything would be a better distraction than concentrating on purposely reaching his core. Which he's been attempting to do for the last hour now. As usual, Castiel parts his lips to give a rebuttal on Dean's comment.

“I'm not in your head. You told me that was an invasion of your privacy and asked me not to infiltrate your mind again. I've been very good at respecting your pri...”

“Cas,” Dean comments with a chuckle. “You're fucking adorable sometimes, you know that?”

“Just... get back to concentrating.”

“It might go faster if you weren't staring me down like you're about to jump me.”

“I _always_ look at you like this, you never complained before.”

“Let's not go there, Cas, I'm supposed to be concentrating,” Dean answers with a blush.

They fall silent once more. It's not that Dean doesn't want to be looked at like that, he really likes the attention from Castiel... it's because _he's_ about to jump the _angel_. That stare does far more to him now than it did when they first met, especially with the mating bond between them. As hard as he tries to keep his mind on his task, Dean can't help drifting to thoughts of his mate.

In the next room, he knows Gabriel is irritating Sam into the right frame of mind. He'll never understand how that works. He gets why their personalities have to balance out their bloodline, that makes perfect sense. The fact that Dean is usually rather chaotic in thought and needs a peaceful mind to use his abilities just doesn't compute, though. If they're not supposed to use their abilities, why the hell were they given to them?

“Dean, if you keep thinking about everything bothering you you'll never reach inner peace.”

“How about we skip all this meditation shit and enjoy one another's company instead?” the hunter asks hopefully. “It has been a while since we had sex.”

“I'm not rising to your temptation, Dean Winchester,” Castiel scolds. “Kushiel is scouring the earth searching for you and I, for one, refuse to allow her the pleasure of capturing you again. Now you close your eyes, reach inner peace, and learn how to control your power!”

“... You are so damn hot when you get aggressive,” Dean comments with wide eyes.

Castiel growls in frustration, slapping a hand onto his face before drawing it down. The hunter is torn between laughing and attacking the angel with kisses. It would appear he's not the only one that needs to find inner peace. Carefully, he reaches over and draws Castiel onto the bed from the chair he sits in. Dean's been sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, so he scoots over to the end of it. Castiel gives him a wary look, knowing the only thing Dean does on a bed aside from lounging... is intimate play. He just told him they weren't going to do that, but if Dean presses for it he's not about to keep that white flag in a lock-box.

“You need to chill,” Dean explains at the expression. “So you're going to meditate with me, that way you'renot staring at me like I'm your favorite steak meal... although... I _am_ pretty damn irresistible. Now sit. It'll help me out way more than you know if those damn eyes are closed and not trained on me.”

“... Do I make you nervous, Dean?” Castiel asks with a teasing smirk.

“N-no! Why the fuck would you think that? Nothing makes me nervous!”

Castiel leans in closer to Dean, his breath ghosting over the hunter's ear, and he can hear Dean swallow nervously at the feeling. The angel gives a rich chuckle at that, the deep tone as gravely as it ever is. He notices a slight shiver traveling the expanse of his mate's spine.

“Are you _sure_ I don't make you nervous, Dean?” he asks again with that damnable chuckle.

“Shut the hell up, Cas,” the hunter mumbles in embarrassment.

Those green pools close again, tightly this time to shut out the angel beside him, and Castiel pulls away with a light snicker. He looks straight ahead, closing his blue eyes if only to humor Dean, and breathes deeply. Slowly, his beathing evens out and he falls into his meditative state. His mate cracks his left eye open, peeking over at the angel carefully. When he's positive Castiel is too far gone to notice, Dean begins to scoot off the bed to make a break for it.

“Don't even think it, Dean,” Castiel comments. “Just because I seem asleep doesn't mean I don't know what's happening around me.”

“Damn it,” Dean groans.

He scoots back on the bed and sits in his previous position. Castiel isn't about to let him get away, not when his life nearly ended at the hands of Kushiel... and this damn imbalance. Maybe Gabriel has a point, the boys really need to get this under control before it gets the best of them. They've managed to destroy so many that have tried to get the best of them, it'd be just their luck to fall to their own damn bloodline.

The bedroom Dean chose as his isn't far from Sam's, where the taller brother is trying his best to throttle his mate. It's only been an hour, but Gabriel is _extremely_ practiced at making himself a nuisance. Fenrir decided to help his father, as he's a little wary about dealing with Dean... and Gabriel seriously needs the back up. Right now the trickster is using his son as a human shield and Sam is welding a sawed off shotgun. It won't kill the trickster, but the salt rock bullets will hurt like a bitch.

“I don't understand why you're so angry,” Gabriel states a bit timidly. “I'm just trying to help, there's no need for hostile weaponry!”

“Weren't you _trying_ to make him angry?” Fenrir wonders.

“To be completely honest... I haven't really _seen_ Sam angry before. Not since I took to killing Dean and repeating the day constantly.”

“... That's what you threatened him with, wasn't it?” the lupine sighs in exasperation.

“How the hell was I supposed to know he'd take it a hundred times worse!”

Both of them duck as a shot is fired, the rock salt shattering on the wall behind them. Granted this was a great idea at first, but now that it's gone awry Gabriel can't help wondering what the hell he was thinking. They hit the floor when another shot nearly catches Fenrir's shoulder, the two scrambling for cover.

The desk Gabriel created there for Sam's reading is overturned, the two pressing their backs to the flat surface as another shot shatters on the other side. For a moment, just a rare moment, the trickster considers calling Castiel. If anyone can calm a person down with their mere presence, it would be him. Then again, he worked hard to get Sam this worked up and it would be such a waste of time to calm him down.

“Sam!” he calls. “Baby, I know you're mad, but that was the goal, remember? I need you to use that anger to your advantage! Search out your core! Ferret out how this damn bloodline of yours works!”

“I'll search out your core, you fucking pest!” Sam snaps. “Just show your damn face, I dare you! I've got a shell of rock salt with your name on it... one for each!”

“Oh hell,” the former archangel huffs. “Any ideas?”

The lupine male shrugs, unable to come up with something off the top of his head. He's a strategist, sure, and one hell of a hunter... but he's never dealt with such an unpredictable litter of siblings such as this. If they weren't born of humans, he would suggest they be caged up for being aggressive mutts and a danger to the supernatural community. As it stands, they're far more than a couple mutts... they're fucking _purebreds_. They should have papers and glitzy collars, paraded around in shows to win all sorts of trophies. How do you deal with a couple spoiled purebreds that only care for each other? The wolf's eyes light up with an idea, the angel practically seeing the imaginary light bulb turn on over his head.

“Anything you learn will help Dean control his own bloodline!” Fenrir offers up. “No more horrid bouts of fever for him and frostbite chills for you!”

“... Fine, I'll search out my core,” Sam relents. “But your ass is mine later!”

“As long as it leads to make up sex, I'm game!” Gabriel cheers.

“Dad! That's fucking gross!” Fenrir snaps. “Now I'm gonna have that image burned in my head for a fucking _century_! That's cruel and unusual punishment!”

“What about our family _isn't_ unusual?” the trickster snorts derisively.

Tired of protecting Gabriel from his alpha... and after seeing the two interact, there's no doubt in his mind his father is the bitch this time... Fenrir retreats to deal with a less hostile omega. Well... still aggressive, but much more familiar. When he walks into the bedroom across the hall, he's surprised at what he sees. Castiel is sitting perfectly straight and deep in meditation. Dean, however, has his head on the angel's shoulder as he snoozes away.

The wolf snickers and tiptoes over to his little brother, tapping his shoulder to rouse him from his trance. It takes a few tries, as the angel is in pretty deep, but Fenrir isn't about to go away. When he finally rouses Castiel, he points toward Dean with a wolfish grin. Confused, the younger male glances toward his mate... and groans in irritation.

“I thought for sure he was meditating,” he sighs in defeat. “I just don't know how to get him to take this seriously.”

“He _is_ taking it seriously, Cassandra,” the raven replies, though more fondly this time. “You're just going about it wrong.”

“... How do you mean?”

“Is he _seriously_ the type of guy to sit still and clear his mind of all distractions?” he wonders. “I mean, I've only known him for a short while and I know meditation isn't his thing. You can't just force something onto him because it works for _you_ , everyone is different. You need to find what makes _him_ calm and peaceful, and then use that to get him in the frame of mind he needs. After you find it, he can train himself to fall into a peaceful state with just a thought.”

Castiel stares at the older male, the wolf god thoroughly surprising him. He always knew Fenrir could be wise... he just never had the privilege of seeing it for himself. The other always liked setting Castiel up to fail and rarely gave him advice that helped. If he did, it was set in a riddle that he had to solve... _really_ hard ones.

“I'll wake him... and then _you_ can try.”

“Oh no,” Fenrir frowns. “I just tried to help dad and ended up a human shield! I'm not playing that role for you as well. Besides, if I succeed where you failed you'll be pissed.”

“Fine... I'll try again,” the angel sighs in relent. “But you can guide me, okay?”

“Agreed.”

The hunter is carefully shifted so his head is in Castiel's lap, and then the angel gently shakes him. He doesn't get anywhere being gentle, so Fenrir reaches over and smacks the hunter upside the head. Dean wakes with a start, one arm swinging out to clothesline his attacker. The wolf makes a mental not never to sit in that area when waking the human. It takes a moment longer for Dean to gather his thoughts and clear sleep from his head. His emerald eyes are clouded with drowsiness, his teeth worrying his bottom lip unconsciously.

“Obviously meditation isn't working,” Castiel sighs. “Let's try something else. I notice when you work on cars you're mind goes completely blank and placid... but we don't have any cars to work on...”

“You don't need the object, just the thought,” Fenrir provides.

“Right... uh... close your eyes and imagine a car in front of you...”

Castiel is obviously in an area he's not familiar with now, frantic blues glancing toward his brother pleadingly. Ask him about history, about the creatures of the world or the supernatural beings that live among the humans here, even about any language spoken and dead... but don't ask him about cars.

“You have a car, don't you?”

“Yeah! She's my baby!” Dean grins. “My black Impala...”

“Well, close your eyes and see her in front of you. Something is wrong with the engine and needs fixed,” he offers up. “Imagine yourself popping the hood, waving the smoke away as it rushes from the open area, and then look down at the engine.”

They watch as Dean's hands raise subconsciously, reaching for his baby's engine with a tenderness rarely given to a human. Fenrir talks him through the imagery a bit longer. As they get further into it the creases of frustration on Dean's forehead smooth out, the tightness of his lips relaxes, and his tense muscles unwind.

Dean can feel the placid state wash over him, can sense the complete and utter paradise within his mind, and sighs in content. Who knew his baby would have such an effect on him. Once he's sure he's as calm as he can get, he looks inward and shields his eyes against the light there. Inside his mind is a lake surrounded by trees and wildflowers... it reminds him of the one he and Sam fought a vengeful boy's spirit at. One of their first cases together after John disappeared.

He walks out onto the dock, watching the dark waters without a care. There's nothing to be scare of here, it's not even a dream... just a visit to his subconscious. The sun above seems so close, though it should be so far away, and Dean lifts a hand toward it. His fingers touch the palm sized light, the fire winding around his hand lovingly before the sky goes dark... Dean is the sun now, it's light emanates from his skin.

The fires whisper to him, a thousand distorted voices like spirits speaking from a graveyard, and he listens for once. It divulges it's secrets, describes it's faults in intricate detail, and soaks into his very cells. He doesn't need a teacher, all the secrets are right here for him... he just has to listen.

“... Do you think we lost him again?” Fenrir wonders.

“... I'm not completely sure,” Castiel frowns as he pokes Dean's cheek. “It doesn't seem like he's asleep, but then... I suppose it didn't seem that way to me before.”

The two stare at Dean, the green-eyed hunter's chin resting on his chest. His breathing is even and his eyes are closed, however the pair can't tell if it's sleep serenity or trance serenity. They're about to touch him when his eyes peek open just a crack, liquid gold light pouring from that small crack. Heat is rising from Dean's skin, a thin wisp of flame licking his form like watery snakes. Castiel shares a glance with Fenrir and reaches to touch the fire, the wolf immediately rushing to stop him. Both their fingers graze the light, surprised when it doesn't burn them. It's cool and loving, more like tendrils of light than fire.

“I think he managed to find his core,” the angel murmurs.

“I'm gonna go check on Sam and dad,” Fenrir comments. “You gonna be okay with your flammable little friend here?”

“I'll be fine, thank you for your help, brother.”

“Anything for my... to get my den back. Geez, it's like you guys are never gonna leave,” he comments after catching himself.

Castiel knows what he was going to say, yet says nothing in return. Fenrir has a reputation to keep up, he believes he doesn't have the luxury of being kind to his family. That's perfectly fine with the angel, he knows that no matter how hostile the wolf is to him he can always turn to him for help.

Across the hall, Gabriel is still hiding behind the overturned table. He simply doesn't have the courage to face Sam yet. When he's rejoined by his son, he sends him an irritated glance. Fenrir responds with a sheepish smile. On the other side of the room, Sam is slouched on the floor against the closet door. His sawed off shotgun is lying on the floor beside him, the handle still resting in his hand and his finger still on the trigger... though loosely.

“So, the traitorous child has returned to the father he abandoned,” Gabriel comments dryly. “Thanks for leaving me with my psychotic alpha, I really needed the alone time.”

“Sorry, I'm more familiar with Dean's aggressive personality... and he wasn't armed.”

“Sure, whatever. Did you catch sight of Sam over there? He's been awfully quiet.”

“He's on the floor... looks like he's sleeping.”

He's not sleeping, however, but deep in a trance much like Dean. Cars aren't his thing, however and he needed an agitated state of mind... so he drew on his time with Lucifer. It may not be fury or anger, but that was the most chaotic time his emotions ever went through. So traumatic, in fact, that it tore him in three mentally and sent him to an asylum.

He's there now, sitting on his bed in the mental hospital. Lucifer's laughter echos through the halls outside. He can still feel the agitation from the sound, his memories turning it to the fallen angel's side of their many conversations. Even now Sam wants nothing more than to rip the man from his mind permanently. He looks outside his window, catching sight of the full moon shining down brightly. How he would love to escape and bathe in the light. He reaches for the moon, gasping when the ball of light settles happily on his hand. It melts into his pores, the reflected light of the sun turning his skin a silvery-blue with it's glow.

Fenrir and Gabriel have chanced scooting closer to Sam, the archangel careful not to get too close. When a strange silver light spills from Sam's eyes, however, the two are quick to take refuge again. They peek over the top edge just as silvery tendrils of light to match his eyes begin to squirm upon his skin. Castiel is at the door, one brow raised in question before he glances at Sam. Without the air of caution the other two have, he walks over and takes the gun away from the taller Winchester. Afterward, he heads back over to his father and sibling.

“I'm going to walk out the door and pretend my father figure and older brother aren't cowering in fear of my father's mate,” he comments. “When I return, I hope you two have gathered your senses enough to realize Sam is the last person you need to fear.”

He leaves the room to deposit the weapon in a safer place. Gabriel and Fenrir blush at the comment handed to them, almost ashamed at the fact the younger male easily faced something neither of them could... almost. As Gabriel had thought before, Castiel could calm anyone with just his presence. Not to mention, he's spent years with the hunter brothers and knows them far better than anyone else. He has an unfair advantage when dealing with the Winchesters.

When the angel returns, he looks between Gabriel and Fenrir once more. Both are standing, but they're still behind the table... just in case. They can hear movement from Dean's room, the trio carefully making their way toward the doorway. The shorter Winchester is waking, a quiet groan leaving his lips as his body falls to the mattress in fatigue.

“Are you okay, my light?” Castiel wonders.

“I don't know if I'm more tired or hungry,” he whines. “But I'm definitely both.”

“Sleep for now and we'll get you something to eat when Sam wakes.”

He doesn't need to be told twice, the hunter passing out before Castiel even finishes his sentence. The angel returns to Sam's room, carefully righting the table before he sets out to clean the space. His movements are so nonchalant, like he deals with this every day, that Gabriel has to wonder how many times he's had to stay calm in serious situations. Probably a lot, considering who he's dealing with.

Sam doesn't stay out much longer, the taller man sucking in a sharp breath when he wakes. His blue eyes are frantic a moment, and then he catches sight of Castiel. The other is gathering books into his arms to stack back up on the table. Sam tries to get to his feet, but his limbs are rubbery and he can't seem to find the strength needed. When Castiel realizes this, he fixes up the bed and reaches down to pull Sam up. The taller man has to use him as a crutch, yet the shorter doesn't seem to mind. Fenrir and Gabriel are hiding in the doorway, still nervous about going near the man that attempted to shoot them.

“Here you go,” Castiel remarks as he lies Sam on the bed. “Dean has successfully located his core... did you meet with the same triumph?”

“Yeah, I did,” Sam breathes out. “It was... amazing.”

“You can tell me about it later. Right now you need rest and we'll get you and Dean something to eat. I'm sure you're both near starved. It would seem it takes a large amount of energy for you to deal with this power of yours.”

“Yeah... it does.”

Castiel smiles and pats Sam's hair fondly, helping him fall into a restful sleep. Afterward, he sends the two onlookers a glare. As he walks past the two, the angel shakes his head in disbelief. No doubt Gabriel will conjure up a feast for the brothers when they wake. Right now, however, Castiel needs to speak with Heimdall.

Heimdall is the keeper of the bridge, he sees and hears all. So when Castiel arrives without a sound other than the rustle of feathers, he's not surprised the other man greets him without looking. Heimdall has always been one of Castiel's favorites while he was growing up. Though the rest of the Norse gods and goddesses seemed to push him around and make fun of him, Heimdall is ever emotionless and without judgment. He allowed the young angel to sit around at the bridge for hours on end without comment, listened to him complain and cry, and even offered a bit of wise advice pertaining to dealing with abusive siblings.

“Greetings, Heimdall,” the angel remarks. “It's been far too long.”

“It has, though by no fault of mine. I have always been right here, youngest child of Loki, never have I left my post.”

“Yes, I know. I apologize for not visiting sooner, it was quite rude of me.”

“You had your hands full, I saw all that befell you from right here. It would seem your luck has dragged you through the nettles once more,” he chuckles. “The angel Kushiel is after your head and that of a hunter you watch over.”

“... He's my mate, actually.”

Heimdall seems surprised at this, yet Castiel expected that. The man may see and hear all, but he doesn't butt into the personal affairs of those he knows. Besides, it's not like Dean flaunts his emotions at every chance given.

“Your mate... the child of the sun? I must say, I'm quite impressed with the runt of Loki's litter. I expected great things of you, but never something that great.”

“Yes, I didn't expect it either,” the angel sighs. “In fact, that's why I'm here. Have you located Kushiel? I would like to know how much she knows of Dean's whereabouts and what she's planning now that he got away. If you don't mind, that is.”

“I do not mind helping a friend,” Heimdall replies. “Especially one I watched grow up right there on my bridge. Just give me a second to locate your fallen angel.”

“Of course.”

Heimdall returns his gaze to the world past his bridge, searching the Earth for signs of Kushiel, and Castiel takes a seat in the same spot he would occupy in his youth. He forgot how much he once depended on the man before him for comfort. Though Gabriel was a good father, Castiel would never play up the 'favored child' title everyone seemed to give him. Besides, as much as a father Gabriel could be... he wasn't very good at settling conflicts between his children. Much like his reaction at the reunion, it was usually give the kids some boxing gloves and let them duke it out. Heimdall had a sense of compassion that Castiel needed then. He was more like an angel than he was a Norse god and Castiel was homesick often and looked to Heimdall for the sense of belonging he would get around other angels. Truth be told, he knew even then that he didn't really belong in Asgard.

“She is not happy to be sure, little angel,” Heimdall informs. “Her fury is a wonderous thing to behold. Dean may not be her prisoner, but she's more than willing to cage him once more... though with far less mercy than before. She plans to harm him, yet knows not where to find him. I see she's already visited the plains of Helheim, she's a smart woman your fallen angel.”

“Does she suspect him to be in Fenrir's den?”

“No. Not even I, who sees and hears all, would suspect such a thing. Whoever came up with that plan is quite the mind.”

“... Do you suppose we'll ever defeat her?” Castiel sighs wistfully. “Perhaps I should just give in so she'll let Dean be. I don't want him getting harmed because of me again and I certainly don't want Sam hurt either.”

“She now knows you aren't the only angel capable of defeating her, she'll be on guard for your father as well,” he comments. “I should say she should be far more wary of _Loki_ than his offspring. The things your father is capable of... they strike fear into Odin himself. Your father is like a split personality, each is capable of so much. His split personality, however, has finally merged to create one capable of all the other two were. You are still growing, still have not reached the peak of your power... your future is what she fears.”

Castiel nods in understanding. He knows he's far from being as powerful as he could be, he can feel that dormant strength burrowed deep within him. Gabriel has always been a force to be reckoned with, but what the man says makes sense. He's always been either Gabriel the archangel or Loki the trickster, each with different abilities and temperaments. Now that he doesn't have a reason to hide, Gabriel and Loki have become one person with both their abilities. Things could get rather messy from here on out. Deep down, however, Castiel has the urge to turn himself over to Kushiel and save his family from that mess.


	27. The Bond of Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas returns from his visit with Heimdall, only to find Fenrir cowering outside his den. Dean is awake and he's less than happy. With Sam still asleep and unable to calm him, Gabriel has locked him in a freezer. The heat from the other's bloodline is literally melting the den. After Cas calms him down, Dean and Sam are reunited. as the two replenish their energy, Cas spends some quality time with his older brother, Fenrir. This gives Gabriel time to explain the complicated relationship of his children to the Winchesters. After a bout of jealousy on Dean's part, Gabriel turns on the TV. From the monitor they spy on Kushiel, learning that eyes were on Dean the whole time... and they know he's in Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments on the summaries, I appreciate them greatly =) Since they seem to be doing okay, I'll keep up with them. Since no one said anything about tags, I'm going to assume mine are okay at the moment. Perhaps I'll change them later if need be. Today I'll be working on my book, so I wasn't even going to update... but I just couldn't leave you all hanging like that. I promised a chapter a day and I'm doing my best to keep that promise =) So here you are, you're update for today. XD

By the time Castiel returns from his visit with Heimdall, the Winchester brothers have begun to stir. Fenrir is curled up outside his den in wolf form, the hulking ball of black fur sending a timid glance toward the entrance. Castiel stops just before his muzzle, suddenly nervous about joining his mate. There's nothing but silence, not even the chirp of a bird, and he remembers this lack of sound from hunting with the boys... this is when a predator is lurking nearby. There was a cool wind that came down from the mountains as he walked toward them, however now it's sputtered into nonexistence.

“Uh... what's going on?” Castiel wonders. “You look like you're facing down Odin's armies, but I don't hear anything.”

“Dean's awake... and he's not happy in the least,” the wolf whimpers out. “His anger is melting the stuff in my den and turning the rock to diamond! Dad's locked him in a freezer, but it's not doing much to stop his wrath... just the heat he's pouring out.”

“... I'll take care of it,” the angel sighs.

The brunette marches through the entrance with a purpose, though inside he feels like fleeing. He's never dealt with Dean's anger well, especially when it's directed at him. He always feels so inadequate at those moments, like he can never do anything right... like he's not worthy of being Dean's alpha. And when the older Winchester gets pissed, there are very few things that can calm him down. One is Castiel, though only when he's not the target of that rage, and the other is Sam. Unfortunately, Sam is probably still knocked out in his bedroom.

Gabriel is in the hallway to the rooms, eyes pinned to the huge metal door that was once the wooden door to Dean's room. Suddenly, there's a blossom of heated red in the middle of the metal. The trickster quickly snaps his fingers, the metal returning to normal.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shouts from the room. “When I get out of here, I'm gonna gank your ass, Gabriel! You stupid feathery fuck!”

“You'll thank me later!” Gabriel calls back. “Well... everyone else will thank me later.”

Castiel shakes his head and walks up beside the other. At the mere sight of the younger angel, Gabriel lets out a sigh of relief and backs away from the barrier. The metal is freezing to the touch, however there's a small spot of heat that's fighting to grow... to melt the slab blocking the way. There isn't even a window there for fear it would crack and the volcanic heat would escape.

“Dean, I'm coming in,” Castiel calls out. “Please step away from the door.”

“I want out, damn it! You let me out _right now_ or I'll burn down the whole fucking _mountain_!”

“Dean Winchester! You'll do no such thing!” the younger angel snaps. “Now you step away from this door or I'll let Gabriel leave you in there until you cool off!”

“... You wouldn't dare.”

“Can you get out on your own?”

“Obviously not!”

“Then watch me,” he comments lightly.

It takes a few moments, but eventually he senses Dean moving away from the door. With a light nod Gabriel's way, the door is opened and Castiel steps into the frigid room. It slams shut behind him and locks with a click. Ice coats the walls and snow lies in a thin blanket along the floor. The walls made by the trickster have burned away, only small charred edges left behind near the floor and ceiling. In it's place are the rocky walls they covered, now glistening diamond from the heat Dean's creating. Castiel gasps and wipes the sweat from his brow. The contrast of heat and cold would have him sick if he weren't an angel. Dean is leaning against the wall furthest from the door, eyes alight with gold as they glower at the intruder. His skin is coated in writhing tendrils of sunlight. It's the most beautiful and terrifying sight the angel has ever beheld.

“Dean, what seems to be your problem?” Castiel breathes out.

“... Are you okay? You don't look good, tiger,” the hunter frowns.

“The temperature difference is disorienting me, I'll be fine.”

Immediately, the heat is pulled back and Dean's skin loses the flickering gold light that covered it. His expression, once hostile and filled with fury, has smoothed over with concern. When his hand lies upon the angel's shoulder, Castiel can feel just enough heat to keep the cold at bay soak through. It's comfortable, like sitting before a fire on a winter day, and he can't help moving closer to it.

“I'm sorry, Cas, I didn't mean to hurt you,” Dean says softly. “Are you okay now?”

“I'm fine, Dean. What had you so angry?” the angel questions. “You nearly _destroyed_ Fenrir's den, he's lying outside sulking. And look what you've done to the _walls_!”

“... It's an improvement,” he waves off. “I want to see Sam! Gabriel told me I'm not allowed to see Sammy until he's awake! Then he told me you weren't around! You left me _alone_ with Fenrir and Gabriel! I mean... dude, that's so _wrong_! An alpha trying to claim me and a trickster that's made me his favorite target? What part of that seemed like it was a good idea?”

“I apologize, Dean. I went to visit an old friend of mine,” Castiel offers. “I didn't think they would be a problem, not when they were cowering in fear of Sam while he was unconscious.”

Dean throws his arms around expressively, eyes wide as he points out the fact he's in a freezer. Obviously, things didn't go as smoothly as the angel had hoped. It would appear his hopes for Dean getting along with his family have yet to be realized. With yet another sigh, he heads over to the door and knocks on it. They barely hear the snap of fingers, yet they see the room transform. The visage of a freezer is torn away like paper, leaving a perfectly cleaned bedroom in it's stead.

The once more wooden door is pushed open, revealing a wary trickster and a sleepy Sam. At the sight of Sam, Dean is quick to pull him into a hug. He notes immediately that his younger brother's skin is a tad cooler than the norm, which means his is likely warmer. He'll have to pack that fact away for later use. He doesn't want to burn anyone just in case it's that hot.

“So, Sammy... since when are you so cool?” Dean wonders with a teasing smirk.

“... What?”

“Well, you're such a nerd normally and now you're cool... get it? Your skin is cool?”

“Oh... funny.”

The tone is dull and flat, so Dean takes a closer look at his brother. Sam's eyes are still half closed, sleep clouding them though he's on his feet. There's still a bit of sleep dust in his eyes, which means he only _just_ woke. The hunter frowns and hums to himself. Sam is bright and very sharp, but when he's still tired you might as well write him off as a zombie until he's had a cup of coffee.

“... Still too soon?”

“Still too soon.”

“Then I suppose it's too soon for the 'I knew I was hot, but not this hot' joke?”

“ _Definitely_ too soon.”

“Spoil sport,” Dean murmurs with a pout. “Let's get something to eat before I pass out. Using up all that heat really sucked the energy out of me.”

“I don't even want to know,” Sam grumbles. “Loki? Can we get some food, please?”

The trickster grins and nods eagerly, dragging the taller male into the dining area. With a snap of his fingers, the table and counters are covered in all sorts of food. Sam doesn't even complain about not having a salad, too hungry to care what he eats at this point. Both he and Dean dig in, filling their plates with chicken, burgers, fries, onion rings, pizza, and all sorts of delicious foods. They don't even sit at the table, eating from both their plates and the serving plates on the many surfaces.

“Wow... I've never seen them eat like that,” Castiel murmurs. “They usually have at least the basic table manners about them.”

“Well, starvation brings out the beast in everyone. It's not pretty, but sometimes it's interesting to watch,” Gabriel remarks. “And if you get it on video, it's awesome blackmail material.”

Castiel decides it'll be better to just go retrieve Fenrir, who's still snoozing outside with the assumption Dean is still causing havoc. When the angel sets his hand on his brother's nose, the wolf snuffs and one golden eye peeks open. The younger male smiles brightly at his sibling, sitting down on the ground between his paws.

Though his first instinct is to smack the smaller male around with those large paws, the wolf settles for nudging him with his muzzle before setting that huge head in the angel's lap. He can smell cold on Castiel, but also Dean's scent. It's different than before, more sunlight and summer day, but it's still the hunter. They sit in the quiet of the mountains for a long while, and then Fenrir can hear the soft snoring of Castiel. Though angel's don't sleep and don't really need it, being within the warmth of his siblings has always had that affect on him. It started with Hel, when he was just a little cherub. Though it was extremely rare, sometimes he'd managed to coax Fenrir into curling up with him... the wolf's fur has always fascinated the angel. Just as Castiel's wings have fascinated him.

Inside the house, Sam and Dean have nearly obliterated the mounds of food given to them. They haven't even sent Gabriel so much as a glance, completely focused on consuming the nutrients they've lost. The trickster can already tell Sam's going to become a health freak after this, always over exercising himself and changing his diet to accommodate the extra food intake. Fortunately for them, however, it's unnecessary. They'll never gain weight from all this extra food... one of the perks of being the children of deities. Like an angel's vessel, they'll be forever as they are.

“You guys need more?”

“No, this is fine. Thanks,” Sam remarks.

“Man, I'm stuffed!” Dean sighs in satisfaction. “Hey, were did Cas go?”

The trickster sends his golden gaze toward the entrance to the den and that's all Dean needs. The hunter gets to his feet, feeling more revived than he's ever felt, and jogs over to locate his mate. He stills at the entrance, eyes wide at the sight of Castiel curled against Fenrir's side. The wolf is holding him carefully, sleeping just as peacefully... as though he's lying with a pup.

He doesn't want to disturb the two, but he simply can't pass this up. He pulls out his cell phone and takes a picture. After Dean retreats into the house, he catches Sam poking at his stomach with a frown. He knows that frown, it's the 'am I getting too fat' frown. Nothing good ever comes from that expression, so what comes next isn't much of a surprise.

“Do you think we should start working out more?” the taller Winchester wonders.

“Dude, are you serious?” Dean scoffs. “I didn't even work out _before_ , what makes you think I'm gonna do it _now_? It's not like we're gonna gain any weight, or anything... right Loki?”

“In all honesty, you two aren't much different from Cas and me,” the trickster offers. “Just like an angel's vessel, you'll stay as is for all eternity. In fact, there probably isn't even a weapon that can kill you considering your bloodline.”

“If we're like angels then why are we eating at all?” Sam wonders.

“Sammy!” Dean gasps in shock. “How dare you even utter such an unholy phrase!”

The taller of the two rolls his eyes. His brother's love of food is unhealthy... it might even be a challenger for Castiel. That poor angel, beaten in love by a bacon cheeseburger. Speaking of which, Sam heads over to the entrance to check on Castiel. When Dean's hand holds him back, he sends his brother a questioning glance. All the other has to do is bring up the picture on his phone and Sam almost lets an 'awe' slip out.

“What's up?” Gabriel wonders. “I thought you were going to bring Cas in.”

“He's sleeping,” Dean shrugs.

“Awe, are my little babies getting along?” the trickster coos. “I have to see!”

He nearly prances out the door. Dean sends his brother a wicked grin, which is met by Sam's blushing face as he attempts to hide it behind his hand. That man can be so embarrassing sometimes. Just to make certain Gabriel doesn't wake the two, the hunters follow. Fenrir is stirring from his slumber by that time, golden eyes glaring at the approaching footsteps in his sleepy state. A fierce snarl rumbles from his chest, his pearly fangs bared in threat, and he carefully scoots Castiel closer to him in order to shield him from any attack.

“It's just me,” Gabriel remarks. “This is a rare treat, what brought it on?”

“... He just... fell asleep,” Fenrir grumbles in embarrassment. “I wasn't going anywhere, so I just let him stay there. It's no big deal.”

“I don't get it,” Sam sighs. “You hate each other, why would you treat him so softly after all you guys have been through? I mean, you nearly killed each other! You tried to take Dean away from him...”

“Oh please,” the wolf snorts. “That hunter isn't even my type... I just like the chase, Cas can keep his psycho bitch. And I don't hate the little brat, none of us do.”

With that cryptic comment, the wolf stands and carefully lifts Cas off the ground by the back of his shirt. Without thinking too much about his actions, Fenrir carries Cas into the den to put to bed. The other three watch as he heads down the hallway to his room. The canine lays his little brother within the indentation filled with pillows, curling around him afterward to go back to sleep. If feels good to be in his den again.

Sam and Dean send Gabriel a questioning look, obviously lost along whatever trail they've been led down. The trickster sighs deeply and heads for the living room. He beckons to the hunters to join him, knowing they won't let this go until he spills some information. To be completely honest, he doesn't blame their curiosity. Those of the Norse mythologies aren't exactly easy to figure out; they're warriors and everything they do seems quite hostile. Look at the way he tried to teach his favorite hunters a lesson.

“Okay, what the hell are we missing?” Dean wonders. “Is that guy bi-polar, or what?”

“My children are all unique, but they have one thing in common... they're blood is that of a warrior,” he admits. “Sure they weren't the nicest to him, but they weren't the nicest to each other either. They're just like any other Norse god or goddess with siblings... they keep each other strong, they make sure their siblings are ready for any challenger. They make sure they're strong enough to overcome any opponent. Cas is the runt of the litter in their eyes, of course they'd be rougher with him. He's not as strong as the rest of them, he's a forgiving angel not a merciless warrior... He's fragile and they don't want to see him broken.”

“Your family is fucked up,” Dean utters.

“Yeah, babe, I'm gonna have to agree with that.”

“I know it's not ideal, but Cas will always be the baby of the group and they'll never see him any other way,” Gabriel shrugs. “Personally, I think they're good for him. Imagine how Cas would've turned out had he not had his siblings pushing him. He probably never would've rebelled against Heaven, he would've died when he took in the souls from Purgatory in seconds, those Leviathans would've taken control completely and he never would've asked you for help, his time as a human would've left him six feet under, and those angels would've killed him in a matter of hours!”

“... I fail to see how picking on him all his life helped any,” Sam comments flatly.

“He needed to learn how to talk back so they wouldn't push him around... Hel taught him that. She used to love dressing him up like a doll. As a child he didn't care, he thought it was expected of him... and then Jormungandr had mentioned how he looked like a pretty omega. That didn't go over well. After that, Cas got a bit braver when questioning his siblings and telling them no,” Gabriel explains with a light chuckle. “Jormungandr is especially good at mental assault, so he's taken up the task of enforcing Castiel's mind. Cas has learned how to think out of the box in most situations, can even stave off hypnosis and other types of mental assaults. Fenrir strengthens his body, always attacking without warning and pushing Cas a bit further with each fight. As it is, Fenrir is a great tracker and Cas has had to learn how to hide from him using anything at his disposal.”

The hunters glance at one another, the very explanation making them feel weary. They can see how the siblings have helped out, though only barely. To think they would go to such lengths bullying and call it help... it's astounding. To think that Gabriel allowed such a thing... then again... what he says is probably true. It takes a strong man to go through what Cas has and not break completely, perhaps his siblings really did make him that much stronger. Dean knows he pushed Sam when they were younger.

Castiel wakes a few minutes later, stretching with a yawn. He's surprised he fell asleep, yet quickly realizes he's not outside anymore. Fenrir is still around him, which means the wolf brought him into the den while he was out. Large golden eyes are watching him curiously. The angel moves, a weight on his back surprising him. It's familiar, yet something he didn't expect to feel right now. His wings have shown themselves. The span of dark feathers only do that when he's feeling particularly safe and at home. It's shocking he feels that way with Fenrir, yet it's not the first time this has happened.

“They've gotten bigger,” Fenrir comments in a rough voice. “And the color has changed a bit since the last time I saw them. Have you been taking care of them like father showed you?”

“Yes,” Castiel blushes a bit. “It's a bit harder without help in the back, but they're well taken care of.”

“You should've visited one of us when it was time to clean them,” the wolf scolds. “You know we would've helped you.”

“I'm not a _cherub_ anymore, Fenrir, I can take care of myself,” the brunette remarks almost petulantly.

“So I've heard,” the wolf scoffs. “ _All_ of the supernatural world knows of the trouble you've gotten yourself into protecting that little mate of yours. Personally, I would've marked him before going through all that shit. You need to take better care of yourself, Castiel! I know you're still young, but we let you leave the den thinking you were _ready_ to face the world. Did you forget _everything_ we taught you when you returned to that damn prison in the sky?”

For once, the angel can see the worry in his brother's eyes. He hangs his head, ashamed at having forgotten the only family that truly loved him. It may not have been an ideal love, but it was still there. They wanted him to better himself. They weren't trying to kill him like the angels, they were trying to hold him up. At the feeling of that gaze on him, Castiel sighs and spreads his wings. They're longer than Fenrir's canine form, which is surprising to the raven man. The last time he saw Castiel's wings they were just longer than his torso... he was still so young then.

Carefully, the wolf nudges his little brother between his front paws. He regards the black wings before him, checking over how well they've been groomed, and then starts to lick them clean. The sensation isn't Castiel's favorite, he much prefers when Hel cleans them, but it's his way of apologizing to the older male. Normally, an angel's wings aren't touched by anyone but their mate after a certain age. Right now, however, he's Loki's child and not an angel of the lord. Certain privileges are given to the siblings of the Norse persuasion. Since he was never a very clean child, always running through the forest and getting into one mess after another, his siblings took up the chore of making sure he was clean enough to be presentable. His wings, always out then, were a thing of beauty to the three. They would fight over who got to clean them next. It also provided a calm they never got to experience normally when they touched them, so Castiel allowed it. He just hopes Dean doesn't get upset about the intrusion.

Dean walks back to the living room, a strange look on his face. He had gone to check on Castiel when he heard voices from the room. He's not normally one to eavesdrop... okay, he's _totally_ the type to eavesdrop. The hunter waited outside the doorway and listened to the conversation, glancing in to see his mate looking thoroughly ashamed and petulant. It's a cute expression on the other, yet not one he would want to see often. When the angel spread his wings, the first time Dean noticed they were revealed, and allowed the wolf to clean them... well... the hunter was quite confused and maybe a little jealous.

“What's the matter, Dean?” Sam asks as his brother sits back down.

“... Cas let Fenrir see his wings,” he murmurs. “And then he let him _lick_ them!”

“Don't feel bad, Dean,” Gabriel frowns. “Cas lives a double life just like me. He's Castiel, but... he's also the child of Loki. That boy could never stay clean and his wings are very beautiful, it's only natural his older siblings want to keep them clean. Fenrir, especially, loves the sight of them. They're calming, even to his chaotic nature, and sometimes he just needs that bonding time with Cas. He _is_ a canine, you know. The closest he's ever come to bonding with Cas and not harming him, is when it was his turn to clean his wings.”

“Isn't that supposed to be _my_ area, though?” the hunter mutters.

“If those three could share the chore of grooming Cas, so can you,” the trickster chides. “My goodness, do I have to be the parent of you two as well? I swear, sometimes I feel like that's _exactly_ what I'm doing!”

He stands and heads for the entrance to the den, the obvious huff within his demeanor directed at the two left behind. Both the hunters roll their eyes at him. He may have seemed genuine, yet the two know the outburst is for nothing more than showmanship. That man doesn't have a serious bone in his freaking body.

Though the conversation is over, the taller male can tell it's still bothering Dean. He doesn't hold many things so close to himself he won't share... his impala being the only one he can think of... but Castiel was pretty damn close even _before_ they were mated. Dean always hated having to share his time, hiding it _almost_ perfectly. He'd always get just that much snappish at the angel, especially when the person he shared time with was Meg. He hated that woman with a passion after she made moves on Castiel. Now that he's the angel's mate, Dean's going to be even more jealous of shared time.

“You know, you spend a lot of time with me,” Sam comments offhandedly. “And you share your Impala with me, too...”

“What's your point?”

“Dean, your Impala is like Cas's wings. You don't let anyone touch it and you certainly don't spend a lot of time hanging out with anyone else. I'm your family, so it's expected you hang out with me all the time. Not to mention we work together. And that car is like your freaking kid! You're getting bent out of shape because Cas is spending time with his family and letting his brother touch his wings? That's sort of double standard, don't you think?”

“... I could say 'no'...”

“... But you'd be lying,” Sam finishes with a smirk. “Just because someone else touched his wings, doesn't mean he loves them more than you. Start worrying about it when the person touching them isn't family, okay?”

“Fine,” Dean sighs with a sheepishly smile. “You know, you're a pretty good Dr. Phil when you have to be... but don't _ever_ tell anyone I told you that. I'd never hear the end of it. And this _certainly_ doesn't mean I want your damn lectures about sharing my feelings!”

“Understood.”

To their surprise, Gabriel returns with a pack of beer. He sets it on the coffee table without a word and sits between the two hunters. Apparently his outburst is forgotten, as he picks up the remote and turns on the television. It's not a show, however, more like a monitor. On the screen, they see an old burned down mental hospital. Kushiel stalks the hallways, furious about something as her minions make room. Within the ranks of fallen angels, they can see the black eyes of various demons. Some seem like humans, however the shine of their eyes give them away. She's aligned herself with all manner of supernatural creatures.

Gabriel turns up the sound, taking a deep drink of his beer before snapping his fingers. A bowl of chips appears in his lap, another of popcorn in Dean's. The hunter grins widely at the sight, glancing over at Sam with a wordless 'I love your mate, dude'. The room is now filled with the click of Kushiel's heels on the tiled floor, nothing more. Sam reaches past Gabriel to dig in the popcorn bowl, he and Dean automatically working around one another to get the fluffy kernels.

“Has anyone located that hunter?” she snaps.

“... No, mam,” a straggly male answers.

His entire disposition screams timid, his clothes an oversized gaming tee and blue jeans. It doesn't take much for the hunters to peg him as a geek, not after all the time they spent with Charlie and fans of the Supernatural series. When the fallen angel turns on him, the man backs into the wall and slides to the floor.

“We're looking, though! There are rumors!”

“Rumors,” she spits out. “Rumors aren't getting me that little slut behind bars! I don't know how he managed to escape that van, but I want his movements accounted for from the moment he did! Do I make myself clear?”

“If you don't mind me saying,” a petite young girl comments from the side. “I might have what you're looking for. Well... the information, anyway.”

She's slim and small, no more than sixteen at the most, but there's a wicked hardness to her eyes. She's seen far too much in her life, went through too many hardships to stay young and innocent. The hunters peg her for either a vampire or a goddess, they're pretty much eternally youthful. Gabriel's lips are turned down in a frown, his eyes sharp as he studies the female talking.

“Go on,” Kushiel remarks.

“From what I've heard on the vine, Dean Winchester was seen walking along the road not an hour after you lost him,” she replies with a smirk. “Afterward, he met up with a pack of wolves. I lost track of him for a while, but caught wind of his presence in Helheim. He was ill and bedridden in the hospital there. He wasn't much better, but he was moved anyway. All I know is he's somewhere in Asgard.”

“Send someone to track him down.”

“Don't worry, I can do that,” the girls grins widely. “I've got connections. He won't be able to hide from the vine, no one can.”

“Get it done. I want that hunter under lock and key.”

The female leaves with a skip in her step, all eyes turning to follow her, and Gabriel shuts off the television. His brow is scrunched in concern, the trickster worrying his bottom lip in thought. The hunters say nothing, just watching as he gets to his feet and begins to pace the length of the living room pit. The silence is driving them crazy. Castiel and Fenrir join them seconds later, the wolf back in human form. At the sight of their father figure in such a state, they both come to a standstill and exchange worried looks.

“What's wrong, dad?” Fenrir wonders.

“We just watched Kushiel in her hideout on the TV,” Dean answers. “The things this guy is capable of... it still surprises me! Anyway, there was a girl there that knew where I've been since the moment I escaped from Kushiel's van.”

“We don't know how, but she knows he's in Asgard now,” Sam adds with a sigh. “She's coming to track him down, said she has connections and no one can hide from 'the vine'... whatever that is. She knew he was sick in Helheim! If she knows that much, she might figure out who he belongs to! We can't let Kushiel know his lineage!”

“... 'The vine'?” Fenrir murmurs in thought. “I've heard that before in Helheim. A group of young women would say it every now and then.”

“ _That's_ where I've seen her!” Gabriel says suddenly as his fist connects with his other hand in revelation. “I _knew_ she looked familiar! She's a Lampad, a nymph of the Underworld! She caters to the titan goddess of witchcraft, Hecate. If I'm not mistaken, that's Akantha. She used to follow Hel around when they were younger, but my little girl never liked her much. She said she was far too evil for her liking and gossiped too much.”

Dean frowns and glances at Sam, the older always better with 'hands on' as opposed to 'book smart'. The book area is Sam's, being the nerd he is. He's always liked studying and reading more than Dean, who would rather be out shooting something or working on his car. It would seem the taller hunter knows what they're talking about and that's enough for Dean. He'll let his brother take this one and just sit back to listen, maybe nod his head once in a while so they think he's paying attention.

“What did she mean by 'the vine', Fen?” Sam wonders.

“... What's with the pet-name?” the wolf growls. “Do I _look_ like your puppy?”

“Fenrir, behave yourself,” Gabriel sighs. “If Sam didn't come up with a pet-name, Dean would've done it eventually... and you certainly wouldn't like that one. Trust me on that.”

“... I guess it's fine,” he huffs. “And when Akantha said 'the vine' she meant the gossip chain. Nymphs are a large species and they blend in with humans extremely well, hunters overlook them for the most part. They don't really do much more than sleep around. There are many classifications; Celestial, land, wood and plant, water, underworld, and even a few that pertain to none of those categories. With their widespread territory, their chain of gossip picks up everything... and a guy like Dean certainly wouldn't slip by their notice.”

The hunter looks confused and affronted by the comment, uncertain which one he should adopt. On one hand, Fenrir could be talking about the fact he's rather attractive and nymphs are eager to have sex with anyone aesthetically pleasing to them. On the other, however, the wolf could be talking about the fact he's pretty loose in that area.

His train of thought is obvious to Sam and Cas, though they're the only ones that note it. Sam sets a hand on his brother's shoulder, a humored smirk on his lips. He's always warned the other of his promiscuous ways, but Dean was always 'the man' before it came out he was an omega. Now it just makes him look like a slut. The shorter male shakes off the hand, a bit miffed at the teasing comfort there. He glares at the wolf, deciding to go with the insult rather than the compliment.

“We need to move him fast,” Fenrir decides. “Where would he be safe?”

“The bunker would be a safe place for him, but we can't chance moving him now,” Gabriel sighs. “If that really is Akantha, she's probably already put her girls on the trail. She never wastes any time when it comes to the latest gossip and the Winchesters are always cause for gossip. I wouldn't be surprised if they've been on the look out for them since the apocalypse, to be completely honest.”

“Hel uses nymphs for all her information as well,” Castiel remarks. “Maybe she can throw in a few to confuse the masses. Gossip is gossip, after all, and there can be so many versions of a story.”

Fenrir grins widely at the idea, patting Castiel on the back with a sharp smack. It isn't often his little brother comes up with such an underhanded trick, that's usually reserved for Loki and his three well-known kids. It makes the wolf proud that the little angel is finally showing the colors of their family.

“I'll head out at once to talk to Hel,” he comments. “You should all be safe here for a while more, not many brave the mountains of Asgard with my prison here. I can promise there hasn't been a nymph of any kind here since I was locked up. There won't likely be one either, my packs are out patrolling the mountain. They'll kill anything or anyone that set foot here... if they don't, Odin's troops will. They still watch me pretty closely, just in case modern methods fail.”

“You're certain they won't find him here?” Sam asks in worry.

“Yep! Just keep him inside the den, no jaunts outside... I'm not even kidding, Dean!” the wolf snarls in warning. “The minute you leave the safety of this den, anyone looking specifically for your presence will know where you are. Understand? This den is only protected so much.”

The green-eyed male nods vigorously, his expression the same one he uses when he's being warned and scolded at the same time... and doesn't really care. It happens enough with Sam, he's used to it by now. Fenrir exits and hurries off on foot. He doesn't take his wolf form, which would no doubt be faster, and that peaks the hunters' interest.

The couch is quickly getting filled up, what with Gabriel returning to his seat and Castiel joining them. To make room, the angel pulls Dean onto his lap. Though the hunter voices his displeasure, he doesn't refuse the new perch and even gives Castiel a kiss to the cheek after being moved. This is going to be a long wait for Dean, but perhaps his mate can ease the boredom a bit.


	28. Passing the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nymphs are searching for Dean, which means his companions have locked him up again to keep him safe. To keep him from thinking of creative ways to escape, Sam joins him in his 'prison' for some brotherly bonding. Though hesitant at first, Dean eventually caves. In the meantime, Fenrir has made his way to Helheim in search of Hel's assistance. Hel is quick to send out her Lampads, leaving Fenrir to return to their family. On his way back, however, he confronts the person tailing him since he arrived in Helheim. Akantha is there to weedle information from the wolf. Back in the den, Cas has replaced Sam and Dean has found new ways to entertain himself. As he sleeps off his fun, Fenrir returns with news from Hel. They aren't working fast enough for Dean, however, and he's planning escape as soon as possible.

Nymphs are a large species, spirits of the elements, and cast their net out wide. Dean isn't allowed out of the den for the simple fact they'll be searching him out now, pinpointing his specific presence within Asgard... and he's suddenly grown a venomous hatred toward them. Though the hunter tries so hard to behave and Castiel attempts everything he can think of to keep him busy, Dean ends up locked in his bedroom again anyway. The repetitiveness of this is getting old fast. One more time that door bars his way to freedom and he'll definitely make a new one... straight through the other side of the fucking mountain!

He paces the length of the room, the bed already overturned using strength he's overjoyed he now has. It'll make kicking Gabriel's ass that much easier. With no more furniture to destroy and the walls already striped down to the diamond he created last time, just so the trickster doesn't have to deal with another damaged room, he plops down on the floor in boredom. He doesn't need to be protected, he's killed creatures more threatening then a bunch of gossiping nymphos. With a sigh, he lifts a hand to watch the little snakes of light drift around his fingertips.

The hunter's noticed that his temper is the root of these little tendrils, the wisps growing longer the more pissed off he gets. He should probably be using this quiet time to learn how to control his temper... He'll do that later. Right now he needs to figure out how to escape. Before the gears in his head even get a chance to turn, the door's lock clicks open and Sam waltzes in with a box. He sits down across from Dean and sets the object on the floor between them.

“... Seriously?” the shorter brother frowns.

“Seriously.”

“... You've lost your damn mind,” Dean remarks in disbelief.

“It's better than sitting here all by yourself, plotting attempts to escape that will most definitely fail... or get you captured and tortured,” Sam replies. “Now... pick your piece.”

With an irritated and reluctant sigh, Dean grabs the car and helps his brother set up the Monopoly board. They sit in silence and play the game that seems to last forever. They've never really sat down to play games like these, always too busy training and hunting, so it's surprisingly nice to have that brotherly bonding time.

The time seems to slip away from them, the two finishing that game only to move on to Candy Land, Connect Four, Snakes and Ladders... even a few games of Hangman. Anything to keep Dean's mind off of boredom. By the time they've pulled their mates into a game of charades, pairing with said mates to make a fair game of it, they have to stop for lunch. It's a small affair, the hunters still rather full from their massive overdose of a meal. The trickster just gets them a sandwich and some soda. Afterward, he gives them a few decks of cards to busy themselves with. The hunters retreat to the bedroom once more.

“It's like having kids all over again,” Gabriel murmurs to Castiel.

“They're still far younger than we are,” the other points out. “Besides, they've never had a childhood of their own. It's only fair we allow them these small moments once in a while... they deserve them.”

“I suppose you're right. But still... it's making me want little ones again.”

“Don't you think you have enough children?”

“I'm immortal! You can never have enough children when you live forever!”

The younger angel sighs and shakes his head. Gabriel could usually be found among the children within Heaven, always playing games with them and telling them stories. He loves children, he really does, and he makes a very good father figure... but the world really doesn't need any more mischief makers in it. Castiel can only hope if it comes down to it... the kids will take after Sam more than the trickster.

Dean sets down his hand, grinning widely before Sam does the same. The hunter's smile falls into a pout. This is the third hand of poker Sam's won and Dean is beginning to think the other is cheating. They're seated on the bed, now righted by the two, and sit Indian style as they play. The room still holds a chill from it's time as a freezer, yet it's a comfortable one. He can see a fine mist of silvery-blue light on Sam's skin. The green-eyed male didn't notice it before now. It would seem his brother has a better handle on his temper than Dean does, which is no surprise. Sam's always been the more level-headed one. They've turned the fan off, the blades casting shadows on the floor around them, and the only sound is their rhythmic heartbeats... they beat in tandem now, like surround sound. It's almost as though they're attached to the same organ or something, the beats thumping exactly at the same moment as the other.

“... I miss our home,” Dean sighs wistfully. “When do you think we can go back?”

“I don't know, Dean,” Sam admits. “It could be a couple days or it could be a year... I just don't know. Try not to think about it, okay? Home isn't just the building you're in, it's the people around you that share that space. With me, Gabriel and Castiel at your side... you could make any place your home.”

“... I can go outside at home,” he mutters petulantly.

“Please don't start,” the taller man sighs. “We're finally spending time together, time we're _not_ spending on a hunt. We never get to just hang out like this, man, I'm enjoying it. Don't ruin it by being a spoiled brat.”

“I like being outside, Sammy, I can't help that! I was practically _raised_ outside!”

“Dean!”

The older Winchester snaps his mouth shut with a click, those vivid eyes dropping to his cards. Sam's shuffled the deck again and dealt their hands. Though he lifts the cards into his hand, that's as far as he gets. The younger of the two can see the sadness and longing his Dean's eyes. It breaks his heart, his older brother locked up and unable to enjoy his free time. It's the story of their lives, one of them is always in trouble or ill... or dead. Their free time is spent studying a target, finding a new job, searching for a way to bring the other back from the dead, or trying to figure out how to save the world from certain doom.

“... I'll talk to Gabriel,” Sam finally sighs in relent. “I'm sure there's a way for us to compromise, okay? I can't promise more than the conversation, though. If he can't think of something, there just isn't anything that can be done.”

“Fair enough,” Dean smirks slightly.

He drops his hand, his first winning hand since they started playing, and Sam chuckles to himself. For now they'll spend time together, but later he'll speak with his mate. The two sit back and Dean deals this time. His mind strays for a moment, wondering how Fenrir's trip is going. When he left he was in human form, much slower than the wolf one.

“Fen was human when he left,” Dean comments absently. “Why do you think that is?”

“The nymphs saw you with a wolf pack,” Sam comments. “Fen is imprisoned here in the mountains. If they saw a large black wolf leaving the mountains, they might connect it to the pack you were seen with. The fact this place is so well guarded won't stop Kushiel from razing it to the ground in search of you.”

“... I wonder if he made it to Helheim yet.”

Fenrir lifts his head to the sky, sniffing the air delicately. Someone is following him. It hasn't been from the time he left the mountains, more since he arrived in Helheim. The scent is familiar and he already knows who's watching him from the shadows, yet he doesn't care to elongate his trip in order to face them. He goes from a jog to an all out run, chasing a low flying demon for fun. Well, more for a reason to put distance between himself and his follower without their notice.

Within the town Hel's palace overlooks, Fenrir comes to a stop outside the glass doors. He left his stalker in the dust, a small smirk of satisfaction touching his lips at that. He doesn't need to be announced, nor does he need to check in with the guard, he's well known here. This is like his home away from home, his second den in a manner of speaking, and he's always welcome. He strides through the palace, throwing open the doors to the throne room after checking the time. As he suspected, Hel is asleep on her throne. Her legs over one chair arm, her body slouched in the seat, and her back is propped up with a huge cushion she's snoring into. Today is Friday and the time is two in the afternoon... she should be in a meeting in the room next door. He's probably the only one other than his father that knows she hides out here and sleep during those meetings. The guards search everywhere _but_ here, because she absolutely _abhors_ sitting on her throne.

He stalks over to the steps leading to the tall backed chair, taking them two at a time without a sound. When he reaches his sister, he leans against the side of her throne with a cocky smirk. At a time like this, he needs to stop and think about the best possible way to wake her up. With a light snicker, he shifts into his wolf form and takes in a deep breath. His howl echoes in the room, jolting Hel awake and sending her toppling to the floor. She doesn't snap out of her drowsy surprise until she hears the snort of humor that leads into laughter.

“What the hell, Fenrir!” she shouts angrily. “I could've had a heart attack!”

“You're a goddess, dumbass, it wouldn't kill you,” he chides. “Besides, this is no time for you to be snoozing, we have a serious problem! Dean's in danger of being found by your Lampads and their vine of nymph gossip.”

“What!” she gasps as she pulls herself off the floor. “Is he okay? How close are they? Have any seen him around your den?”

“Well, they know he's in Asgard,” he shrugs. “Nothing more, though. I believe dad said the big-mouthed bitch that told Kushiel that much was your old acquaintance, Akantha.”

“I always knew that bitch was no good,” Hel grumbles. “I'm guessing you're here because you have a plan to stop them?”

Here, Fenrir stops and glances away from his sister. The plan is an ingenious one, he could easily tell her it was his idea... but it's so rare Castiel deals with problems on their level. He really is proud of the angel and how he's growing. After a short moment, he sighs and locks eyes with his sister once more.

“Not mine... Castiel's,” he states. “He said you should send out your Lampads and have them murk up the gossip surrounding Dean. You know, have them carefully lead the others away from Dean's location. I'm not saying the hunter isn't safe in my den, but that little bitch just won't stay inside! If he gets outside while the Nymphs are searching for him in Asgard...”

“... They'll surely find him and tell Kushiel,” Hel nods in agreement. “Are you sure Castiel was the one that come up with this? It just seems so... underhanded for him.”

“I guess banging that little hunter tart has a good effect on him,” the wolf shrugs.

“You should return to them,” the woman sighs. “I'll send out my Lampads to confuse the masses at once. They're playing a dangerous game, messing with our family.”

Fenrir growls his agreement, arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed in anger. It isn't often someone tries to harm a member of Loki's brood, as the siblings can be rather vicious... and so can their father. The two exit the throne room together and head to the large entrance doors. Once they step into the town's square, they bid one another a goodbye and head in separate directions. Fenrir doesn't take his wolf form now either, too wary of the presence that was following him earlier. It certainly doesn't take long for that presence to send his neck hair standing on end. This time he has the opportunity to call them out.

“Alright, that's enough!” he shouts with a snarl. “Get your ass out here and tell me what you want, or I'm gonna chase you down and slice through your fucking abdomen! I'm sure the field demons would like the extra side of entrails.”

“No need to be so hostile,” a light and playful voice states. “I'm no threat to you, Fenrir.”

The wolf watches as a familiar woman walks over to him. She attempt to make her gait seductive, her hands tucked behind her back as her long silky black locks fall over one eye. Those hard green orbs glowing slightly with mischief... it's a sight Fenrir is familiar with thanks to his father.

“I've heard you're sweet on the hunter, Dean Winchester,” she smirks. “I'm sure an alpha of your caliber makes it a point to keep tabs on the potential mates they'd like to screw... do you know where he is right now?”

“Far away from me,” the wolf mutters bitterly. “Cassandra doesn't trust me with his precious little bitch. Not that I blame him, of course. Give me fifteen minutes alone with that sexy little piece of meat and I'll show him where an omega belongs. I'd have him begging for more in mere seconds. I heard he's quite the little whore.”

“... Castiel doesn't let you around Dean?”

“Of course he doesn't, what kind of alpha do you think he is? He might be young and naïve, but when it comes to mating even _he_ knows which alphas to look out for. He's not _completely_ stupid.”

Fenrir makes certain to keep his voice bitter and angry, the personality he's known for when things don't go his way... a petulant child. He's extremely practiced when it comes to playing the part a person wants. Akantha doesn't see anything out of place with his tone, it's expected, and she believes when he says Dean has been hidden from even him. Only the most irresponsible of alphas would leave their submissive lover with a guy like Fenrir... 'no' just doesn't hold any meaning to him.

They talk a little longer, the wolf venting like he's never done before... almost scaring the nymph with his hostility at times. After Akantha decides he's probably about to rip someone's head off and she's the only person within reach, she excuses herself. The wolf smirks to himself, though he doesn't put all his money on the fact she won't follow him. At least he can't feel her eyes on him at the moment. With a sigh, he buries his hands in his pockets and shuffles off.

Dean is angry, there's no other word for it. He's not pissed yet and he's certainly more than upset, so the word he's thinking is angry. Now that Sam has retired to his room, hoping for a nap, Dean is locked in his bedroom again. This time, however, he has Castiel as company. The angel is quiet, though he's usually like that. This time, however, it's driving Dean crazy.

“I'm so fucking bored!” he whines.

“I apologize, Dean, but this is for your own good. You have an uncanny ability to slip away and get in trouble,” Castiel frowns. “I don't want to keep you locked up, I really don't, but you really aren't giving us much choice here.”

“I just want to get outside, man! This place is confining and I can't breathe!”

“You only think you can't breathe. In all actuality, the oxygen here is just as abundant at that outside,” the angel points out from his perch on the end of the bed. “If you would stop and clear your head of irritation, you would realize this. You aren't claustrophobic, you're just searching for excuses to get out.”

“Seriously, Cas?” Dean whines. “Why do you have to shoot down my comments like that? You aren't me, you don't know if I'm claustrophobic or not!”

“Yes I do,” the brunette remarks without doubt. “You're my mate, I've known everything about you from the moment I pulled you from Hell. Even the smallest little quirks. And I don't mean to shoot you down like that, but it's the truth. The minute you stop searching for excuses, the more content you'll be.”

“If you know me so well, you'd know that's not true,” Dean points out flatly.

“I know, but I was hoping it would make you feel better,” Castiel admits. “Sam said sometimes you have to lie about small things to make someone feel better when they're angry. That was a small thing, correct?”

Dean sighs and sits beside Castiel on the bed, arms draped over his thighs and head hung in defeat. He glances sidelong at his angel, the worried crease between his brows apparent as he studies the hunter, and then he sends a grateful smirk with a nod. It's a small thing and had Dean not been so furious about the lock on the door, it would've made him feel better.

The hunter flops back onto the bed, green eyes closed as he tries to will away the boredom. The room is as silent as a grave, something he noticed the minute that damn lock clicked. He would give anything for a noise; a tick of a clock, the hum of the fan, hell he'd even take a damn leaky faucet at this point. But no. All he has is his imagination and an angel that barely talks without need. Granted, it's a sexy angel... but still so silent. The things that husky tone does to Dean, he shivers with just the thought. That's when the thought occurs to him... he doesn't need to make a jailbreak, he has the perfect distraction sitting right beside him.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean smirks. “You know what would really help me out?”

“What's that?” the angel wonders, genuinely curious.

“If you would pass the time with me.”

“... In what manner?”

Dean grins even wider, rolling onto his stomach. He gets on his hands and knees, turning around to crawl over to his mate. He takes a seat on Castiel's lap, straddling him as his arms wrap loosely around his neck. The hunter leans forward so their noses touch, mischief in his green eyes and an impish smile on his lips.

“I think you know what manner,” he whispers huskily. “You know me so well, after all.”

“Having sex won't make things better,” Castiel remarks distractedly.

“Oh, but it'll make me feel so very good,” Dean murmurs before kissing the tip of Castiel's nose. “And when I feel so very good, I'm less likely to make everyone else feel so... very... _very_... bad.”

By now that deep voice has dropped into a seductive whisper. Their lips are only inches apart and Castiel is quickly forgetting why he had told Dean this wouldn't solve everything. It certainly seems like a good idea at the moment. Without thinking much past that, the angel's hand grabs brown locks and pulls Dean in for a kiss. It doesn't stay chaste for long, the two quickly getting rough with one another. Dean's hands are tugging at Castiel's dark brown hair, his lips fighting to overpower the angel with no success. Castiel has one arm wrapped around the hunter's lower back, holding him as close as possible.

He gasps when Dean bucks his hips unconsciously, moaning eagerly and dropping his hands down to Castiel's jeans. His fingers fumble as he tries to unbutton them, the hunter shocked at how badly he wants this. He tries to remember how long it's been... perhaps he has a serious problem. When Dean doesn't unbutton his pants fast enough, Castiel takes over the task. He hooks his arm around Dean, moving him swiftly to the side and onto his back on the mattress.

“What's the matter, my light?” he teases as he undoes his jeans. “I thought you wanted this, why so hesitant to undress?”

“I'm not,” Dean argues. “I'm just... a bit clumsy today.”

Castiel chuckles at him, pulling his shirt over his head before sliding out of his pants. He's in only his boxers at this point, yet he doesn't rush to rid himself of them. Right now, Dean has too many articles of clothing on for his liking. The hunter licks his lips, quickly yanking his shirt over his head. He's so eager, he gets tangled in the cloth and Castiel has to help him out of it. The angel can't help but laugh, earning a glare from his mate that doesn't have as much heat as he'd like. Well... there's heat there, but it's all lust and little anger.

Instead of yelling at the angel, the hunter decides to attack his mouth. He pulls Castiel down by the back of his neck to lock lips with him. His tongue slips into the angel's mouth, sparring with Castiel's. Pretty soon, the angel has beat back that muscle to continue the fight in Dean's mouth. He doesn't know when it happened, but when he looks down at the angel's progress... his pants are already on the floor.

“... What the hell?” he wonders in confusion.

“You're very easy to distract in bed,” Castiel replies in humor.

He's about to argue that, when the angel grinds into his hardened member. Dean's mouth falls open with a moan and his green eyes roll back. He wasn't expecting such an aggressive attack plan from his lover. Castiel takes command, pressing a hand onto Dean's shoulder to hold him in place. His mate isn't looking for foreplay, not this time. He's looking for the hookup he's used to from the women in the bars, the ones he uses to forget his day or cage his temper. The type he partakes in for only pleasure and that helps him remember that being rough isn't only for the hunts he's gone on all his life.

The angel continues to rock into his mate's member, concentrating on driving him crazy with that one action. Dean spreads his legs a bit more, making room for his lover to work. One arm is over his eyes, the other resting beside his head. He's already panting, his hips meeting Castiel's eagerly as his rhythm speeds up. His moans are loud and the angel knows that Gabriel will be pestering him later about the details.

“Oh, Cas,” the hunter moans wantonly. “So good... so fucking... ah! Mm... m-more. More, Cas, I... I want you... so bad...”

“As you wish, my light.”

He strips them both of their boxers, his blue gaze laying on Dean's moist body. The sweat beading on his skin makes him glisten. A small smirk touches the corner of Castiel's lips, the angel reaching over to the bedside table. He knows his brother and father figure well enough to know he didn't forget to place a bottle of lube there... probably more to embarrass the angel than to help him.

The bottle is pulled out and popped open, the sound drawing a groan of pleasure from the hunter. Dean's hips raise off the bed, the anticipation driving him to the point of begging. A whimper slips from his lips, the hunter mentally berating himself for the sound. Castiel, however, loves it and rewards the pleasing sound with a hand on Dean's erection. As he strokes the other firmly, he spreads the lube on the fingers of his other hand. Those digits drop down to Dean's entrance, circling the pucker there before the first finger presses against it. It doesn't slide completely in right away, just pushing past the tight ring, and Castiel thrusts it in and out. The feeling has Dean's toes curling, his voice growing louder, and his hips pressing down to get more.

The hunter can't seem to close his mouth, the panting too strong to do so, and a green orb peeks beneath his arm to glare at Castiel. The angel smirks and presses his finger as deep as possible, adding a second to begin scissoring. The stretching is a bit uncomfortable, yet Dean knows what's to come and can handle it... if only for that overwhelming dive off the cliff later. Once the third finger is added, the hunter cries out in ecstasy. Castiel located that sweet spot that sends bliss throughout his body. The angel removes his digits and picks up the bottle again, this time spreading the cool liquid along his shaft generously. As he looks along the length of his mate, he can't help but lick his lips in anticipation. The hunter looks so good beneath him, face twisted in pleasure he can only find with the angel, and it boosts Castiel's ego quite a bit. Before he can push the green-eyed male's legs apart to accommodate him, however, Dean starts to reposition himself.

He gets onto his knees and scoots toward Castiel, staring at that erection sticking up from the hole in his boxers hungrily. He doesn't swallow the angel, though, merely straddles his lap. Castiel knows what he's trying to do, carefully moving them to make it easier on Dean. He stretches his legs out on the bed, propping himself up against the headboard to watch, and beckons Dean closer.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he wonders. “This might hurt you.”

“I want to,” Dean remarks. “Women do this all the time to me, I just want to see what the appeal is. Is that okay with you? I mean... alphas like the top, don't they?”

“If this is what you want to do, I won't stop you.”

“... Can I top?” Dean wonders eagerly.

“No. I'd stop you on that one.”

Though he sulks about the loss, Dean revels in his small victory. Perhaps someday Castiel will get curious enough to let Dean top him. Until then, he'll have to take what he can get. He straddles the angel's hips again, reaching behind him for that thick member, and carefully presses the swollen tip at his pucker. He starts to sit down on that rigid flesh, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain. It's not this painful when Castiel fills him.

The angel strokes the side of Dean's face lovingly, his blue eyes warm and filled with trust wrapped in devotion. It's a look the hunter never really understood until they were bound. Locking gazes with that heavenly blue shade, the hunter pushes himself lower on Castiel's cock. He only gets a couple more inches, and then he has to stop. Taking pity on his mate, Castiel rolls them over to switch positions and enters Dean in a single thrust. The green-eyed male sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes going wide at the feeling of being filled. They both still so the hunter can get used to the intrusion. Once he's sliding along the angel's member, slowly and carefully, they return to their previous positions.

From this position, Castiel's shaft pushes even deeper inside Dean. The hunter moans, long and loud, at the feeling of that tip rubbing and pressing up against his prostate. Without thinking, he bucks his hips listlessly. His mind is trapped in a pleasurable haze, his body running on instinct when he finally lifts himself up and drops himself back down. Castiel strikes his prostate and Dean's vision goes white. It's not with orgasm, not yet, but it's still a star-burst of desire.

“Ah! Oh, Cas!” he cries out. “Oh god... hah... mm... oh, yes!”

His movements don't start at a slow rhythm to grow... no, they immediately begin at a hurried frenzy. He's never felt like this before, those hands running soft strokes along his sides as that dick slams so deep in him... it's perfect. He bounces on that shaft, tears gathering at his eyes as the pressure in his gut builds. It's Heaven, it really is. Castiel's breath is caught in his lungs, watching as his mate comes undone on his erection. The ever calm, ever hard, Dean Winchester... reduced to wanton moans and babbled claims of desire as he fucks himself on that thick flesh.

The hunter's legs are sore, yet he's not going to stop... not now. He's so close, he can feel it wound up in his abdomen. Castiel groans at the feeling of his mate clenching and unclenching around his shaft, trying his hardest to force the angel to cum first. It won't work, the angel knows that much, and Castiel reaches to grasp Dean's cock. His hand strokes him hurriedly, squeezing and twisting at just the right spots... and then he flicks his thumb just beneath the skin of his head. With a cry of Castiel's name, Dean comes undone. His hot sticky fluids splash over his stomach, his insides clamping tight around Castiel. The angel's hands grip tight to Dean's hips, slamming him down roughly. With his eyes closed and his lips pressed tight, Castiel releases all that tension deep within his mate. Dean moans at the feeling of hot cum filling him, rushing back to drip from his entrance in rivulets.

“Oh god!” he moans out.

“No,” Castiel pants out with a smirk. “Just me.”

“I don't know, tiger, you definitely give me the divine treatment in the sack,” Dean chuckles breathlessly. “I could mistake that for getting fucked by a god. The Norse god of sex, maybe? Sounds like a good title for you.”

Castiel laughs at that, yet says nothing more about it. He can see weariness in Dean's eyes, allowing the other to snuggle up to his torso after he slides down to the mattress. The hunter yawns and closes his eyes against the room, drifting off slowly as he clings to Castiel. The angel watches the ceiling fan, though it hasn't moved since the hunters were playing board games, and smiles to himself.

The angel sighs and starts to shut his eyes as well, when he hears voices in the hallway. One is Fenrir, the wolf eager to tell Castiel about his trip. He barely has time to use his power to place the blanket they lay on over Dean before the door opens. Castiel growls at the intrusion, his older brother coming to a halt just inside to stare at him.

“Yeah... we're gonna work on that pathetic excuse for a growl later,” he remarks. “For now, I have news. On my way back here, Akantha was stupid enough to ask me about Dean's whereabouts.”

“What did you tell her?” Castiel demands.

“I told her the exact location of my den,” he remarks sarcastically. “What the hell do you _think_ I told her? I said you didn't let him near me and then had a bitch-fit about how I want to fuck him and you were ruining everything. She bought it, didn't follow me after that.”

“And Hel?” Gabriel wonders.

“She's sending out her Lampads to follow through with your plan.”

Castiel sighs in relief, the sound not lost on his sibling. Fenrir watches him a moment, the smell of sex and sweat thick in the air. It takes all he has not to cover his sensitive nose and embarrass his younger brother. When Castiel gets embarrassed, he tends to close in on himself for months at a time. His golden eyes rove over the couple on the bed, lingering on Dean. Though the blanket covers anything important, he can still see the muscular back and arms. The hunters face is slack in slumber, so relaxed it's difficult to tell his profession from a look. He shifts his stance... and catches the shimmer of the new mark branded into Dean's skin... the mark of the sun. A violent shiver crawls down his spine at the reminder, the wolf forcing himself not to gag in fear. If anything is a turnoff when it comes to mating, that most definitely takes the cake. The deities of the sun and moon are the most hostile beings he's ever met toward the supernatural. Hell if it weren't for their wrath toward a monster's tendency to feast on humans, the first hunter never would've been created.

“Is there anything more?” Castiel wonders with a bit of bite.

“Has he been staying inside?” the wolf wonders.

“... Well... he hasn't gone out, but not for lack of trying.”

“I locked him in the bedroom,” Gabriel grins wickedly. “He's started calling me Warden! Isn't that cool? I don't think I've ever had a cool nickname from Dean, usually they're just barbs or irritated name calling... Can't imagine why.”

The two ignore that, knowing exactly why. Gabriel's attempt at a tone of innocence is a pathetic one, leaving nothing but doubt in it's wake. It's simple to tell Dean is his favorite 'plaything'. Castiel knew the older angel would attach himself to the Winchesters the first time he saw them together. With a sigh, the younger angel motions for them to leave. When Dean stirs at the movement, however, is when the two males hightail it.

“Who were you talking to?” Dean wonders sleepily.

“Fenrir returned. He and Loki came to tell me of his news.”

“... He saw me naked? What the fuck, Cas! Why would you let that lech see me like this?”

“You were covered,” he replies a bit affronted. “I'm not that careless. Besides, he's petrified of making anymore moves on you. Your mother bound you to me for a reason, she's not about to allow him the chance to take you away... neither am I.”

He wants to argue the fact, but the complete honesty in Castiel's eyes shuts him up. This is the only man in the world that can make him feel like a chick... and it would still be okay with Dean. Any other and the hunter would put a bullet between their eyes. With a sigh, the hunter closes his eyes again and tries to get back to sleep. Everything will be fine, Fenrir managed to talk to Hel... they'll fix everything so he can go outside soon. Oh hell, who's he kidding. He's out of here the minute the moon rises and everyone falls asleep.


	29. Sacrifice and Leverage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries sneaking out at night, but finds someone else trying to break in. After a short stint in Heaven to get away, he returns to find an army of nymphs... and his companions captured by them. After freeing the others and dealing with the nymphs, Dean tells Cas he can't stop him from facing Kushiel. So as Dean sleeps that night, Cas leaves to make sure he never has to. Though he's ready to give himself up in exchange for Dean's safety, not everyone is happy with his choice. As Cas has to deal with Dean, who's burning down Asgard, Hel and Fenrir stay behind to make sure he gets away. Fenrir, however, isn't so lucky. He's taken prisoner by Kushiel. Loki's extended family hurries to his rescue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done, my wonderful readers! The next update will be the last =( That means I get to post a new fic for you! XD I just have to figure out which one ^^; Until tomorrow! XD

Just as he planned, Dean sneaks out of his room the minute Castiel is relaxed enough to drift into sleep. The angel might not need sleep, however the hunter's noticed how he likes to doze off with Dean in his arms. This works to his advantage tonight. With a sly smirk, the hunter slips out the door and creeps down the hallway. He comes to a stop when he hears movement in Sam's room. Just because Cas likes to sleep with Dean, doesn't mean Gabriel feels the same way about Sam. He lets out the breath he didn't realize he's holding when everything goes still again.

He's just making his way through the living room when he catches the sound of someone outside the den. His frame stiffens and he backs up, tripping over his own feet on the way. When the door handle jiggles, the lock the only thing keeping them out, he crawls along the floor hurriedly to hide in the living room pit. There's the sound of metal scrapping metal, something slim and small digging around in the keyhole, and then the click of the lock popping open.

As the door opens, a cool gust of midnight air blows in. It sends a shiver along Dean's spine. The person that enters is slim and small, he immediately pegs her as Akantha. If she catches his presence within the den, she'll know for certain where Dean can be found. He closes his eyes and imagines himself working on his Impala, feeling the tenseness melt from his body as he relaxes. After that's done, which only took a second or two, he imagines that place in Heaven that Castiel likes so much. The garden of the autistic man, he can see it before his eyes. When he opens his eyes again, he's standing in that little piece of Heaven his mate uses as a haven of sorts. He breathes a sigh of relief and sits down on the side of the fountain.

“Dean Winchester?” a voice wonders from behind him. “What are you doing in Heaven? You're not dead yet... are you? I mean, even if you were I would've bet all my Reapers you would've gone to Hell again.”

“... Death,” Dean smirks. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't think you'll be taking my soul on that final journey for a long time.”

The old man chuckles to himself and saunters over to the hunter, sitting on the edge of the fountain beside him. The last time he saw one of his favorite hunters, Dean was just a memory within Sam's mind. He made a personal call to the younger Winchester at his time of passing, only to be kicked out by yet another of Dean's ploys to beat him. He has to hand it to the older brother, he certainly never runs out of ideas when it comes to escaping his final resting place.

“So what brings you to Heaven without a Reaper? An angel, perhaps? I've heard a rumor that you belong to one now. Come on, boy, catch me up with the news. You know how busy I've been.”

“How can I forget? I was you for a day,” the hunter laughs. “Well, that rumor is true. I'm Castiel's mate now and Sam is Gabriel's. He could've done _so_ much better... Sam, I mean. Gabriel's fucking lucky my brother's wasting his time on him. Anyway, Sam and I also learned of our lineage.”

“Lineage? I've heard only that you were born of Mary and John Winchester, was there something I missed?” Death asks curiously.

“Oh dude... it's something _huge_. Apparently, Sammy and I are the children of some long lost deities thought to be dead since the Black Plague. Can you believe that?”

The older man's eyes grow, impressed with the news. He knows the deities Dean speaks of, they used to frequent the afterlife and hang about around the Reapers. They were also frequent visitors of himself as well. Since they all live for so very long, it was only natural they befriend one another. He was probably the only one that knew they were only hiding out. They never told him about having children, though.

“So that's how you ended up here,” he muses. “You've managed to learn your mother's talent of travel. For what reason you're here, however, remains a mystery.”

“... Kushiel has the whole of the Nymph community looking for me,” he sighs out. “I was hiding out in Fenrir's den with Sam, Cas, and Gabriel... but Akantha, a Lampus, broke into the den and this place was the first one I thought to retreat to. Kushiel doesn't know I'm Xia's kid, not yet, and I _certainly_ don't _want_ her to know. She's trying to capture me as leverage against Cas.”

“So it's true. Kushiel is looking to free Lucifer again,” Death murmurs as he turns the ring on his finger listlessly. “For what reason would she want leverage against Castiel? All of Heaven would be looking to stop her.”

“She believed Cas was the only angel strong enough to... and then she realized Gabriel is down on Earth playing Loki. Now I'm afraid she might be after Sammy as well.”

The older man nods, his eyes pinned on the hunter. Dean's attention has moved from the grass to the water in the fountain. The hunter and he go back a ways, as they met when Lucifer released the Horsemen... Death was one of them. He, unlike the others, didn't want any part in the fallen angel's plans. He spoke with Dean to help set himself free and even handed over his ring to assist in caging Lucifer once more. The only irritation he found in the other, would be the time Dean attempted to leash him in order to deal with Castiel.

Aside from that, their meetings have been relatively nice and the hunter even provides him with the most interesting foods to snack on. At that thought, the man frowns a bit and looks to his hands. He's always enjoyed human foods, though he doesn't need them, and right now he could certainly go for some.

“Huh,” Dean comments as he notices Death's expression of loss. “I just realized this is the fist time we've sat down to talk without any food around.”

“Yes... it's quite disappointing.”

“Hang on, let me try something.”

Green eyes are shut tight as Dean gets himself in that serene place. He imagines holding a plate of nachos. For some reason he could really go for some serious nachos... probably because he expended energy getting himself where he is now. He's not starving like he was before, but he's still a bit hungry. Death watches in awe as those streams of light extend from the hunter's hands, swirling about to create a plate filled with nachos. They're topped with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, jalapenos, burger, sour cream... the works. When he opens his eyes again, the hunter is grinning wide.

“This... has got to be... the fucking _coolest_ thing that's ever happened to me!” he cheers.

“It certainly does come in handy,” Death chuckles.

He reaches for a chip, Dean setting the plate between them after scooting over a bit. It's sad, but his most relaxing talks seem to be with the Grim Reaper himself. For a moment, he wonders why that is... yet brushes it off quickly. Sometimes, you just have to take the serenity where you can get it.

“Do you think that psycho Lampad is gone yet?” he sighs out.

“If not, she's most definitely dead,” Death comments. “Gabriel and Castiel might let her live, but Odin and Fenrir are another story completely. Fenrir doesn't like people intruding on his territory, especially so boldly, and it doesn't help that she's threatening his family. As for Odin, he's not particularly fond of anyone in Fenrir's territory that isn't family. He's afraid they'll use him to start the war that's predicted to be his end.”

“... I should probably get back,” Dean sighs. “Don't be a stranger, man, I could do with some relaxing chats over food. Sam's getting this ridiculous idea that we shouldn't eat anymore since we really don't have to... I think he's trying to kill my spirit.”

The old man laughs at that, watching as Dean stands with a stretch. The hunter closes his eyes, and then he's gone. At first he wants nothing more than to go back to the bunker, but he knows the others wouldn't think to look for him there. With a sigh of relent, he returns to Fenrir's den. When he opens his eyes, he's surrounded by faces he wishes weren't there. Fenrir and the guys are tied up in a circle of holy oil, positioned in the middle of the living room pit, and Akantha has a small army of nymphs with her. They're scattered around the large room, all eyes now on Dean.

“Uh... hey,” he murmurs sheepishly. “What's up?”

“... Where did you come from?” Akantha wonders in shock.

“Outside, I took a walk... needed to clear my head,” he answers quickly.

“... Get him.”

He's surrounded quickly, the women grasping his arms... and one is pressed up against his back to wrap her arms around his middle. He knows it's more to piss Castiel off than to keep him detained. The angel's eyes are like blue lightening in the glow of the holy fire. The hunter finds himself thrown to the floor in front of his companions, the nymphs being none too gentle.

Akantha has a wicked gleam in her eyes, snapping her fingers at the others and pointing to the green-eyed male. He grunts in pain when a foot collides with his stomach, the girls circling him and mercilessly kicking. Castiel shouts out, fighting with his bonds to reach his mate. He can't get to Dean and the other knows that, he'd be destroyed by the fires. Those fires have to go. Green eyes flash with the light of the sun, Dean fighting past the pain to force the burn down. When the flames are nothing more than heated oil, he turns his attention to the ropes binding his friends.

The pain is coming more swiftly now, a particularly nasty blow bringing blood to his lips. He knows his face is pretty bruised, a few stray kicks landing on his jaw and cheek, and a couple fingers have to be broken from a vicious stomp. Slowly, the ropes unravel and the others are free. Castiel wastes no time diving for Dean, his body covering him as his wings unfurl with hostility. The nymphs are thrown backward with the force, the angel carefully lifting his mate into his arms.

“How did you get free?” Akantha gasps in fear.

“We have our methods,” Gabriel remarks with a mean smirk. “The question you should be dwelling on at this moment is, how are _you_ going to get free?”

“The answer, dear nymph, is that you aren't,” Fenrir snarls.

He morphs into his wolf form, though it's smaller so he has room to maneuver, and leaps toward the den's entrance. He blocks their only exit, a fang filled grin deterring them from going near. Gabriel is in no mood to spare lives. Sam isn't either, one look at Dean's injuries sending a wrath through him he rarely feels. His eyes are lit with silvery-blue, the tendrils of moonlight swirling from his hands.

The room begins to shake and shiver, cracks spreading along the floor from Sam's feet. Gabriel is caught between pulling him from his anger and watching in awe of it's chaotic beauty... damn his love of chaos! One of the cracks have finally reached a nymph, a pretty woman with a brown bob and chocolate eyes. Instead of falling through the floor, her shoe begins to turn to diamond. She screams as it continues up her slender form, covering her completely in a cast of unbreakable gem. When she's completely covered, they can see right through her... nothing is left of the nymph she began as, just a diamond statue of a beautiful woman.

The room is filled with fear, Fenrir wagging his tail at the scent, and the cracks start branching out more. The figure of a tree stretches from Sam's foot, each branch leading to a nymph. The ones in front have already been transformed. When the number reaches ten statues and four nymphs, Gabriel sighs and places a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. He glances his way.

“Sam, look,” the trickster comments with a motion toward Dean. “He's already healing. He'll be fine, just calm down. Okay?”

Dean is watching the crystalline statues, green orbs wide with awe. He's still in Castiel's arms, yet he's standing on his own now. The angel is doting upon him, trying his best to wipe the blood from his skin that still lingers there. Sam calms at the sight, knowing his brother will be just fine now, and the light leaves his eyes. Startled blue irises look upon the damage he's caused.

“Are you fucking serious?” Dean utters in annoyance. “I put out holy fire and unbind you guys, but you turn ten fucking nymphs into diamond statues? Way to show me up, Sammy!”

“Just be glad you're not spitting up blood anymore, jerk!”

“Don't call me a jerk, bitch!”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch!”

“Okay, enough!” Gabriel shouts. “In case it's escaped your notice, we still have four nymphs to deal with! I suggest we deal with them and _then_ argue about who has what status.”

“Just let Fenrir eat them,” Castiel mutters with a hard glare Akantha's way.

“Cas, have I ever told you you're my favorite?” Fenrir grins more ferociously.

The angel sends him a look crossed between surprise and disbelief. Obviously, that's something he never thought would tumble from those lips. Gabriel snaps his fingers and the last four nymphs are trapped in a cage, left to feel both indignant and relieved. The wolf's ears pull back in disappointment. In the back of the cage, however, Akantha leans against the bars. Her eyes are pinned to Sam, the revelation that he's no human hit her the minute his eyes lit up. The question of _what_ he is still remains. She needs to get out of there and report back to Kushiel.

Dean moves over to the closest statue, the nymph's face twisted in horror and trapped in a silent scream. Carefully, he reaches out a finger to tap the diamond surface. He can't feel any life force present beneath the gem. Castiel watches him like a hawk, though he doesn't move. He's not about to let the hunter near the cage, not after what they did. His fingers are twitching, eager to smite the women that harmed his mate.

“Guys, this can't keep happening,” Dean sighs. “I can't keep hiding, I need to face Kushiel.”

“No, Dean,” Castiel states hurriedly. “I'll face her. It's my fault you've been targeted by her, I'll deal with it. I just don't want you hurt anymore.”

“No one is going anywhere!” Gabriel snaps. “We're going to take out these nymphs, clean up this mess, and get some sleep! We'll deal with everything else in the morning!”

As he finishes his speech, the trickster reaches out and grabs one of the nymphs by her face. Her mouth opens wide and white light burns from her mouth and eyes. She drops to the floor, smote by the archangel. Castiel helps the trickster with the other three, leaving Akantha for last. When Castiel reaches for her, a tingle of fear spikes along her spine and she closes her eyes. She doesn't want to see her end.

The den is so silent now, Fenrir having buried the four bodies and relocated the ten statues to the forest. He'll have Gabriel make him a garden in the morning. Now that everything's been cleaned up, the five males have gone to bed. Dean stares up at the ceiling, his angel lying on his stomach with an arm draped over the hunter's middle.

“Cas?” Dean murmurs.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Did Gabriel and you figure out the Casket of Ancient Winter yet?”

“I think Gabriel has,” the angel admits. “He wants to make sure we all know how to use it, just in case it gets passed around during battle.”

“... I'm going to fight her, you know,” Dean states with certainty. “You can't stop me. I'm a hunter, we hunt dangerous supernatural things. If Kushiel manages to release Lucifer again, that'll be the end of humankind. I can't think of anything more dangerous than that. It's my job to stop her.”

“This isn't your fight, Dean,” Castiel attempts. “This is my fight, it's Heaven's fight...”

“Yeah, because Heaven's done such a bang up job in the past,” he scoffs. “I'm going to face her, end of story. Good-night, Cas.”

The hunter turns away from his mate, curling into his pillow as a substitute for the angel he's gotten used to sleeping against. This is their first fight as a couple, the first one that really leaves a bad taste in Castiel's mouth. He lies there for a while longer, waiting for Dean's breathing to even out, and then gets out of bed. He can't ask his mate to face Kushiel, not when he's the one she's after. With a sigh, he glances down at Dean. Carefully, so as not to wake him, he walks around the bed and leans down to kiss his forehead.

“I'm sorry, my light,” he whispers. “This isn't your fight and I won't let you sacrifice anymore.”

He's gone before Dean begins to stir, the hunter opening bleary eyes to the darkness. He doesn't feel Castiel in the bed with him, so he assumes he's retired to the living room and goes back to sleep. Had he known his mate left to confront Kushiel, he would've followed without hesitation.

Castiel stands in the street, his blue eyes gazing upon the hospital from Gabriel's home movie. It's falling apart, charred markings blossoming from each broken window and creaking door. The large double doors at the entrance are cracked, broken, and hanging half off the hinges. He can feel the presence of all sorts of creatures, his eyes roaming over each window. Kushiels slender form steps from the cockeyed doors, a smirk on her lips.

“Castiel,” she greets. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I want you to leave Dean alone,” he states forcefully. “He's done nothing to you, he doesn't deserve to be targeted because of your insecurities!”

“... So you give yourself up? Really?” she scoffs. “What makes you think that little tart of a hunter won't come looking for you? I know for certain he'll try to stop me from reuniting with my mate, what am I supposed to do then? Let him succeed?”

“Do what you have to, just don't kill him... That's all I ask,” Castiel remarks. “I just want him in good health and alive.”

She stops and regards the angel for a moment, recognizing the look in his eyes. That's how Lucifer looked when he spoke of her. She knew Castiel was close to Dean, but she wasn't aware they were mates. She'll be keeping them apart just like God kept her from Lucifer. For a moment, she's at a loss for what to do. Castiel is obviously one of two angels that can stop her... but he's also Gabriel's child. With him caged, the archangel wouldn't dare attack her. She'd be free to do as she pleased. Then again, Dean won't let this stand. The Winchester brothers are infamous for getting revenge on those that harm their family.

“You've put me in quite the difficult position, Castiel,” she frowns. “I don't feel right keeping mates apart, however, Gabriel wouldn't dare risk the life of his precious child just to stop me. The only real problem we have is Dean. I promise not to kill him, that's all you get. You, on the other hand, shouldn't have come here so defenseless.”

She snaps her fingers and a pack of werewolves stalk forward on four paws. On his other side, vampires get ready to rush him. His form stiffens at the threat, yet he forces himself not to move. Those impossible blue orbs close tight, his ears picking up the advancing footsteps of his attackers. Before they tackle him to the ground, however, he hears a pained canine yip. His eyes shoot open to see a large sea serpent coiled around him.

The snake swallows the wolf it's gotten it's jaws on, a dark cloud wisping in like a dancing wind to stop before the vampires. It takes the form of Hel from the waist up, her hands reaching out to drag the souls from those threatening her baby brother. Castiel's eyes are large as he watches, his ears picking up the shrill howl of Fenrir. That huge canine figure barrels through the trees and skids to a stop with his siblings.

“That's it!” he snarls out. “You're officially back in the damn den! I'm sick of worrying about your trusting ass, Cassandra! There's no more rope for you to hang yourself with, you've gotten far too close to doing so for my liking!”

“I'm not a child!” Castiel snaps. “I know what I'm doing!”

“Oh, well then you're aware that Dean's set fire to the trees of Asgard,” he comments.

“... Uh... no, I wasn't aware of that,” the angel murmurs in defeat.

“Get his ass back home!” the wolf snaps. “I'll deal with these weaklings!”

“But...”

“I'll help him, we'll be fine,” Hel assures. “Take care of Castiel.”

Jormungandr nods and lifts Castiel's squirming body up by the back of his shirt, his fangs careful not to puncture the other's skin. It's not his largest form, as he's large enough to circle the world, but it's still fairly huge. Though the angel yells and fights, he's no match for the oversized anaconda. Knowing he won't get away, he swings himself around to glare at his other two siblings.

“If you two get yourselves killed because of me, I'll never forgive you!” he shouts.

“Yeah, yeah. Don't worry yourself, Cassandra,” Fenrir states sarcastically. “We'll leave as soon as you're clear. Go calm your fucking mate down before Odin tries to kill him.”

The angel tries his hardest to stay facing the other two, yet the rapid slithering motion of Jormungandr has him facing forward in no time. The snake dives into the nearest water source, a small puddle from the rainfall, and Castiel holds his breath as he's submerged. When they surface again, it's within the waters of Asgard. Any pool of water is a portal for the sea serpent that resides in Asgard's oceans.

He doesn't stop to change back into his human form, too eager to get to the roaring fire in the mountains. Castiel raises his arms to protect himself from scratching branches, his brother growing larger to hold him above the treetops. From this vantage point, the angel can see an orb of golden light within a clearing. Without meaning to, he starts to shrink into a small ball to hide from his outraged mate.

“Can we just tell him I went for a walk and Kushiel found me?” he asks Jormungandr.

“... You would lie to your mate?” the sea serpent chuckles as he holds tight to Castiel's shirt. “Isn't that a bit... immoral?”

“I don't like it when he's mad at me,” the angel nearly whines. “I feel so inadequate when he looks at me with that disappointed and judging expression. I don't look at him like that! Why would he turn it on me?”

“He's an omega, they don't have to play fair.”

The snake knows his little brother is sulking, a humored smirk on his reptilian lips. Once they get close enough to the clearing, Sam notices the giant snake and starts freaking out. Gabriel isn't with them, too busy trying to extinguish the fires burning straight for Odin's castle, so he can't tell them it's only his child. Dean is just turning toward his brother, eyes full of molten gold light.

The first thing the hunter sees is the snake, obviously... but the second is Castiel in it's mouth. He sucks in a sharp breath, his wrath immediately pinpointing the reptile. Before he can attack, Sam catches the conversation between the two with his oversensitive hearing. When Dean went 'child of the sun', Sam responded by allowing his own bloodline to sizzle at the surface.

“Dean, wait!” he shouts. “It's Jormungandr! He's not going to harm Cas, he's just bring him back to you.”

The hunter hesitates only a moment, and then his eyes return to their usual vivid green. His body, however, doesn't lose the dancing light rising off him like flames. The serpent stops a few feet from them, hooking his long body into an arch so he can place Castiel on the ground. Once the angel's feet are resting on soil, Jormungandr takes human form.

It's not even half a breath from his transformation and Dean is rushing Castiel. The angel runs to the other side of his brother, using the serpent as a buffer so Dean can't reach him. It's not the bravest thing he could possibly do, but that's the first idea that comes to his mind at the moment.

“You left me!” Dean shouts. “You fucking left me! You went to face Kushiel alone, didn't you? What the fuck were you thinking, Cas! I told you we would do it together!”

“I went for a walk!” Castiel shouts from behind his brother. “She found me, I wasn't expecting it! Please, calm down, Dean!”

“Don't you lie to me, Castiel!” the hunter snarls.

“... Okay, I might have tried to reason with her,” he admits meekly. “I just wanted her to leave you alone. I know you're angry with me, but I only had your well-being in mind. Please don't be mad at me anymore.”

The green-eyed male tugs at his short locks and growls at the sky, stomping one foot is a stroke of tantrum. He turns his back on the two, both hoping his temper is subsiding. When he can't think of anything to say, Dean storms away to start pacing across the clearing. Sam uses this opportunity to extinguish the fires quickly eating away the trees. The trunks are charred and crumbling, the forest dead in that area, and he suddenly feels horrible for Dean's rage. It doesn't matter, though, as a second later it's like nothing happened.

“What the hell part of that was 'calm and peaceful'?” Gabriel snaps from the trees. “You shouldn't be able to use your power when you're that pissed!”

“I figured it out,” Dean hisses. “Fire isn't just a force of destruction, it's also a force of life. You take out this forest and the ash provides fertilizer for even greener vegetation. See? I'm helping and venting at the same time.”

“... Damn I wish he hadn't learned that,” Gabriel mutters. “Sam, did you... why are you looking so sheepish and guilty?”

“... I may have... mentioned the whole fire thing to him,” he murmurs sheepishly. “I didn't know he was actually _listening_.”

The archangel huffs and pulls at his hair. After his short temper tantrum, he grabs Sam and starts back to the den. Sam quickly gets a hold of Dean, not wanting to leave him out there without someone that can talk sense into him. Since he's still obviously pissed at Castiel, that makes Sam the only option.

The den is quiet, yet smells like smoke from the fires. The group gags at the smell, knowing Fenrir will throw a fit should they leave it like that. Not to mention one of them is sure to puke. Gabriel zaps it away, leaving it smelling of wildflowers and earth. They flop onto the couch, the trickster adding another for the extra company.

“Fenrir and Hel should be coming soon,” Jormungandr remarks. “They were only giving us time to escape.”

“... I don't know, Kushiel was there,” Gabriel frowns. “My children are formidable, especially together, but Kushiel is older than they are. If she manages to capture them, I'm afraid she'll have the upper hand. I won't risk the lives of my children.”

“I'm sure they're fine,” Sam comments. “If you really need to, you can check the television again, can't you?”

His eyes light up, the thought hadn't occurred to him before Sam mentioned it. With the snap of his fingers, the television comes to life. It shows the halls of the abandoned hospital again. Bodies are strewn along the hallways, claw marks raking the walls, and a few lights have been blown from something too large forcing itself in. The scene blinks from one spot to the next, finally ending in the cafeteria... where Fenrir's large wolf form is held in a cage of silver. Hel is nowhere to be seen.

“You,” Kushiel comments in a teasing scold. “You are a _very_ feisty puppy. I think we can help one another out, though. You see, I want my mate back and you probably want Odin's men called off of you... am I right? Fierce Fenrir, the prophesied end of the great Odin... trapped in a cage for centuries and constantly tailed now that you're wearing an ankle bracelet. Daddy's most dangerous child.”

“I'm not making any deal with you, fallen angel,” he snarls out. “Your words are lies soaked in poison. You're no better than the demons you hire.”

“... That's not very nice,” she pouts. “You know, I heard your sister was holding a special weapon for your father. What is it? Can it defeat me?”

“There is more than one weapon that can defeat you,” the wolf scoffs. “And my father holds them all. You're fated to perish at his hands.”

“Didn't you hear? Fate is out of a job thanks to the Winchesters. Probably the only good thing they did.”

“You want them to come for me, don't you?” Fenrir smirks. “You think you're safe because you have me locked up. You're forgetting, my little brother doesn't favor me. In fact, I've tormented him to a point he'd gladly slit my throat himself. You'd be doing him a favor killing me off.”

“That snake? Please, he doesn't scare me.”

The wolf shakes with his laughter. It startles Kushiel and those watching the television know why Fenrir laughs... she doesn't count Castiel as his little brother. That's _her_ mistake. The younger angel is already heading for the door to stop all this. It takes all of Dean's strength to force him back to the couch, taking a seat on his lap to keep him there.

Gabriel turns off the television before the conversation ends, not wanting to hear anymore. His child is at Kushiel's mercy... and merciful isn't the word he would use to describe her. He needs to free his son. He's about to stand and turn to the others when Hel rushes into the den.

“Fenrir's been caught!” she shouts out.

“Yeah, we know,” Dean sighs. “We just saw it on the tube. What the hell happened? Snake boy over here said you two only stayed to buy time.”

“He heard her talking about chasing Castiel down and flipped out,” she frowns. “I tried to pull him away, but he was too far gone. He's infamous for his blinding rage, you know. He chased her into the building and she caught him in the cafeteria. It's warded against... like... everything but demons. The angel ward keeps out all angels but Kushiel. Either that, or she has someone wipe it off before she goes in.”

“Then we can't reach him,” the trickster comments in defeat.

“We can,” Sam remarks.

“No! I won't drag you two into this.”

“Loki, we're already in this,” he snaps. “As much as we'd love to ignore it, they're our family now, too. You know how Dean and I are about family. We're going to that hospital, you guys are going to cause a diversion, and Dean and I are going to free Fen. End of story. You try and argue with me about it and you're sleeping on the fucking couch for three years!”

“... Three... Okay, let's get going! I'll give you the rundown of the Casket on the way!”

That's how they end up down the street from the abandoned hospital, in the middle of the night, bickering about their next move. Apparently having more than one alpha and warrior in the family leads to far too many disagreements. Dean and Sam sigh and watch a moment, glance at one another, and finally take charge.

“Okay, this isn't helping,” Sam mutters. “Loki, you pretend to turn yourself over to Kushiel for Fenrir. Keep her talking and don't let her out of your sight... your good at drawing out a conversation. Hel, you sneak in the back and start ejecting souls from vessels. Take down her army as much as possible. Jormungandr, you wait in the trees with Cas. Dean and I will go straight to the cafeteria and free Fen, he'll probably make short work of anyone you guys missed. Cas, you keep trying to fly into the cafeteria. Dean and I will erase the wards so you can get in and get us out. Once he manages to come to us, Jormungandr, you get Hel and Loki out of there. Got it?”

“... He's quite bossy,” the serpent remarks.

“I like it!” Hel grins widely. “Let's get this show on the road.”

Gabriel hands the Casket of Ancient Winter to Sam, who's the best wielder for it considering his bloodline, and then languidly makes his way to the building. He tucks it into his jacket, stepping back to Dean's side. The trickster is up first, Hel moving through the trees to keep her presence hidden. When Gabriel gets to the entrance of the hospital, he calls out for Kushiel loudly. It takes a few heated shouts to get her to the door. When she shows up there, however, Dean and Sam close their eyes and imagine the cafeteria.

When they open their eyes, Fenrir is glaring at them. The two split up there, Sam searching for the wards they need to erase and Dean picking the lock on Fenrir's cage. He could easily zap it away, but he's feeling the drain from the fires and transporting himself there. Since he's so practiced with lock-picking, he wonders if the padlock doesn't click open a little faster than he could zap it.

“There you go,” Dean whispers. “Sammy, how you doing over there?”

“Just a bit... got it! Cas should be able to break through now.”

The angel with intense blue eyes appears inches from Dean, as per usual. Sam hurries to his side and Fenrir changes to his human form. They all place a hand on Castiel's shoulders, the lot of them vanishing in a ruffle of feathers. They reappear back where the sea serpent was left, Jormungandr already slithering over to grab a hold of Gabriel. He shouts out Hel's name, her body of black smoke shooting from the roof like a demon on the run, and snags Gabriel with a fang to his shirt. Kushiel leaps for them, grabbing hold of the archangel's ankle with a vicious grip.

Sam and Dean are quick to run forward, wanting nothing more than to help the trickster. Sam pulls the Casket of Ancient Winter from his jacket pocket, closing his eyes and willing it to work for him. While he does that, Dean pulls an angel blade from his jacket and flings it with perfect accuracy. It may not kill Kushiel, but it'll still hurt like hell.

It pierces her in the chest, the fallen angel screeching in pain as she lets go of Gabriel. A thin beam of icy blue light shoots forward from the Casket, narrowly missing the angel as she falls to the ground. Her eyes are wide, she recognizes that light... that chill. Before Sam can try again, Kushiel is grabbed up by a remaining demon and whisked away. The fight continues.


	30. The Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Loki's children once more safe, the family splits up for now. Back at the bunker, Sam beats himself up for failing to end Kushiel and Cas reveals his worries to Dean. Gabriel left to visit Heaven, hoping to get information on Kushiel, and returns with a rather sour mood. Kushiel, though not trying to hide, has made it impossible to reach her. With a need to get her alone, Dean hatches a plan. the only problem is... no one wants to go with it and it's the only one they have. It's time for the final confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it, my wonderful readers! The last chapter =) Since you all seem to like me posting only one fic at a time, I think I'll start posting 'Angels Among Us' next. I still don't like that tiles, though, I might think of a new one for it =( It just doesn't seem to go with the story... well... not completely. Anyhow, I'll start posting that tomorrow =) Until next time XD

After the confrontation with Kushiel, the family has split up. Castiel and Gabriel are talked into returning to the bunker by their mates, the hunters sick and tired of holing up in the wilderness. As nice as it is for them to have family again, they'll have to deal with it in small doses. After all, the Winchesters have never been a very affectionate family.

Sam is lying on a couch in the library, sulking about missing his chance at ending Kushiel. The others have decided to allow it for now, giving him the space needed for the time being. Dean is making dinner in the kitchen, his angel watching from the stool he sits upon. He hasn't said anything since the strategy argument at the hospital. The hunter has a feeling he's less than happy about Sam and him going on the offensive.

“Where'd Gabriel get off to?” Dean wonders as he stirs the pasta sauce.

“... I don't know,” Castiel admits. “He said he would return shortly, so I can only imagine he went for a walk somewhere... Perhaps he went to gather information from Heaven. They're probably keeping tabs on Kushiel's location.”

“I guess that's good,” Dean admits. “He's usually not one to take the initiative, though. He's probably pretty pissed at Sammy.”

“He's not angry... and neither am I,” Castiel sighs.

“I never said you were.”

“I can hear your thoughts screaming at me, Dean,” the angel frowns. “You're worried I'm angry at you for attacking Kushiel like you did. Gabriel and I are just... worried. We can't stop you from running headlong into danger, that's what hunters do. It doesn't matter how many times you two talk about retiring and living a normal life, this life will always linger and cling to you. How can we protect our mates when they're programmed to face life-threatening danger head on?”

Dean sighs and turns the fire down on his sauce. He walks over to Castiel and pushes him away from the counter a bit. The hunter slips between the angel and the counter, nudging his knees apart so he can get as close as possible, and then rests his arms on Castiel's shoulders.

“You and Gabriel have nothing to worry about,” he assures. “I mean, yeah... we're hard-wired to face all sorts of dark things and we would probably be toast if our bloodline didn't unseal, but... we're good now.”

“You don't understand,” the angel sighs miserably. “Just because you and Sam are immortal, doesn't mean you can't die. Your soul can be pushed from its vessel just like an angel or demon can be. Though you might be able to reconnect easily, we still have to watch you get hurt... we still have to sit with your corpses until you revive. And what happens if your body is destroyed while your soul is missing? How will you come back then?”

“Worrying so much will give you wrinkles,” Dean comments with a smirk. “Just calm down, okay? I'm sure there are plenty of ways we can come back if our bodies are destroyed.”

“You don't know that for certain.”

“I feel it,” he smiles before kissing his mate. “Now, I'm gonna finish making dinner. Why don't you try to cheer Sammy up, okay? I think he's sulked long enough.”

“... Okay.”

Castiel and Dean part, the hunter returning to the stove and the angel heading for the library. Sam is still lounging on the couch, his long legs nearly hanging off the side. Castiel sits across from him in an armchair. For a long moment, both males are silent and the lack of noise hangs heavy on the air. For as long as he's known the Winchesters, Castiel still has trouble finding the right words to soothe their burned egos.

“I missed her,” Sam mutters. “She was right there. I could've ended it all right there, I could've ensured all our safety with that one blow... and I _missed_.”

“It's fine, Sam,” Castiel assures. “We'll face her again and we'll get her then. Right now, we need to worry about her location. You need to forgive yourself and move on, you're not helping anyone by sulking like this. None of us blame you for anything, we're just happy we all came out alive in that confrontation... You should be too.”

“... I guess you're right,” Sam sighs reluctantly. “I'll start searching around for anything leading to Kushiel's current location. At least I can't miss on that.”

“That doesn't sound like you're forgiving yourself,” Castiel frowns.

“... It's a process.”

The younger Winchester leaves it at that, rising from his perch on the couch to retrieve his laptop. After so long with the two, the angel knows not to pursue another argument. This really is a process for the two. Most of the time, however, they never manage to forgive themselves. Others, perhaps... but not themselves.

Dean is just putting pasta in boiling water when Castiel rejoins him. Sam is sitting on the far end of the counter with his laptop. The sound of the water boiling and the flame below the pot roaring is the only noise. Aside from Dean's humming that is. The hunter's mood always lifts considerably when he's cooking. The angel wonders if he's not remembering his time with Lisa and Ben when he cooks, if that's not what puts him in such a good mood. He feels a spike of jealousy at the thought, yet presses it down quickly. It doesn't matter anymore, Dean is _his_ and _he's_ the one that makes him happy now.

“Good job, Cas,” Dean whispers when he makes his way to the other. “That went far better than I thought it would, Sam actually looks relaxed and happier.”

“... He's faking,” Castiel mutters. “He's only pretending to be happy so you won't get upset. You should know that better than anyone, it's a ploy you apply more often then not.”

“... Yeah... but I like to think he's okay,” the hunter sighs. “I'll just watch him more carefully, just in case he gets too depressed to trust not to get hurt.”

The angel nods and watches as the other puts spaghetti on a couple plates. He goes for the sauce next and pulls out the garlic bread in the oven. Sam is drawn from his laptop by the wonderful smell, his smirk growing into a large grin when Dean pulls a salad out of the fridge. Though Castiel doesn't have to eat, he still sits with the hunters. He enjoys their company.

Gabriel returns around the time the two are washing the dishes, Dean scrubbing and Sam drying. Castiel watched for a little while, but decided to put them away after the boredom started to nag at him. The archangel seems a bit stressed, his ever present grin gone. With a snap of his fingers the dishes are washed and put away, the leftovers are placed in containers, and the fridge is stocked up with anything not eaten.

“Sit down,” he states.

“What's going..?”

“Sit,” he demands a bit forcefully.

The hunters take a seat with Castiel, all of them watching Gabriel expectantly. He says nothing for a long time, pacing a small part of the tiled floor, and they wait. His disposition is fried, as though paranoia has crept up on him and lingered for far too long. He's worrying his bottom lip, a small cut having healed over from when he bit through it earlier. Dean vaguely wonders if nervous angels chew on their wingtips or not. Finally, the trickster sighs and stops moving to face the others.

“I visited Heaven to pick up on their progress concerning Kushiel,” he informs. “Unfortunately, they haven't done much. On a brighter note, Kushiel isn't exactly trying to stay hidden. She's retreated to the wilderness of Colorado... and surrounded herself with Wendigos. We won't be able to get to her until she leaves that area.”

“Great,” Dean mutters.

“There has to be _something_ we can do,” Sam tries.

“Not really,” Gabriel sighs.

“Actually... Fenrir's been hunting Wendigos since one killed his favorite bedmate,” Castiel offers. “I can talk to him... he's had a few centuries to perfect his skill. And Jormungandr is too large for a creature like that to harm him, he can sniff them out without troubles. We can always set them on the Wendigos.”

Gabriel doesn't answer, which means he probably has more to say. None of them want to hear what else is on his mind. It's not because they don't care, but because it'll put another wrench in the only plan they've begun to piece together. He takes in a soothing breath, trying his best to calm down in the face of helplessness, and parts his lips to continue.

“She's holed up in an abandoned camping ground within the mountains,” he informs. “It was abandoned because of the Wendigo outbreak and forgotten. Within that camp are many bunkers and buildings filled with rogue angels, vampires, werewolves, and demons. We may have put a dent in her army, but she was quick to replace it. Going in there would be a death sentence to anyone... even us. We have to get Kushiel on her own, or we can't face her at all.”

“... I have an idea,” Dean grins. “Check this out...”

Though they all listen to Dean's idea, none of them are too thrilled about it. It's the perfect plan in his mind... and it probably is... but no one wants to take that risk. It relies heavily on the hunters' new abilities, which are hardly under control or thoroughly explored. Unfortunately, it's all they have and the others have to relent. Dean heads out to prepare everything they need while the angels make any calls required.

The graveyard is so quiet, as still as any grave should be, and the night is chilly. It's as though even the darkness knows what's about to go down... what's likely to happen. Dean stands beside Sam, the chill hardly touching either of them; one too warm to feel it, the other too used to the chill. Gabriel and Castiel are there as well, but trapped behind holy fire as promised. It's this visual that has Kushiel walking from the shadows to join them.

“I hope you don't mind my caution,” she remarks. “But I don't want to be surprised with a circle of my own. Any weapons you might have, please throw them away from you... especially if they can be used to start the damn fire.”

“We aren't armed, as promised,” Dean comments. “Do you want us to strip down or something?”

“No, it's not necessary. Your mates are vulnerable within that fire, any move I don't like and I'll kill them. I'm sure you understand. Now... the key to Lucifer's cage, if you will.”

“Remember, no Apocalypse,” Sam states. “And everyone is left alone to live our their natural lives... no wars, no deaths, no negativity!”

“I promise, now give me the key.”

Sam inches closer to the fallen angel, pulling the key from his pocket. Death hesitantly allowed Dean to borrow his ring again for this, though he's probably close by to take it back if necessary. She takes the key and sets it on the ground. Her grin widens in joy as the portal to the cage begins to open, her attention solely on that, and the hunters begin to inch closer.

“You really think I'm stupid enough to trust you two?” she laughs bitterly. “I didn't come here alone and I sure as hell don't care what happens to this pathetic world. I would've said anything to get back my mate, as would you.”

She snaps her fingers, her grin slightly manic as she awaits her backup. Two demons rush from the brush on opposite sides. On the right, a giant sea serpent lunges forward and swallows the demon whole. On the left, Fenrir's enormous wolf form takes them down and breaks their neck.

“Yeah,” Dean draws out. “We never trusted you either.”

“You'll find that our stalling to set up the holy oil pretty much gave our friends enough time to kill off your back up,” Sam smirks. “Sorry about that, I'm sure you understand.”

“You've just made the biggest mistake of your lives!” she screeches before throwing a hand out to the trapped angels.

Gabriel lifts his chin ever so slightly, flinging Kushiel into a tall gravestone. Castiel lowers his hand, the fire following his movement until it's snuffed out. The oil wasn't holy, it was just oil from an old lamp they found in the bunker. Gabriel created the fancy jar they put it in to trick Kushiel. As they took their time setting up the fire, Fenrir and Jormungandr rushed through the forest killing off any lingering creature waiting for Kushiel's signal.

Now she's alone, the portal to Lucifer's cage widening by the second. She knows it's too late to close it, a soft cackle mixed with insanity and joy leaving her mouth. Something shoots from the portal, Sam immediately concentrating on it while Dean watches Kushiel. Whatever tries to exit next is blocked. Micheal lands upon the grass, fury in his eyes as he pinpoints Dean and Sam. He's still in Adam's body, the third Winchester brother, and rushes Sam. Before he can touch the other, Gabriel gets in the way.

“Don't you dare harm my mate, brother,” he hisses out.

“You protect him? After what he did to me?”

“You did it to yourself! I told you to forget the apocalypse shit, I told you how it would all end. Father didn't want his humans killed off like that, he loves them! We should've loved them as much as he did!” Gabriel spits out. “The Winchesters belong to me and Castiel, they're not yours to kill! If you touch them, I will _personally_ kick your ass back down that _fucking_ hole!”

“They were the ones that allowed you exit anyway,” Castiel mutters. “I voted to keep you down there. You're lucky they have such pull, or there you would've stayed.”

Micheal is surprised by that, his anger momentarily stalling. He gazes back at Sam and Dean, feeling the enormous power radiating a chill off the younger male. Kushiel is getting impatient, her body crawling over to the cage as she searches for Lucifer. His light beats against the opening, blocked by Sam's control over darkness... which includes fallen angels. As Kushiel stands up, the beating growing difficult for Sam to ignore, Dean sneaks over... and pushes her forward.

Surprisingly, Kushiel doesn't scream in fear as she's thrown into the cage with Lucifer. Instead, a look of absolute peace takes over her features. A soft smile tugs at her lips and Lucifer quickly wraps around her to slow her fall. The hunters fall to the ground, one exhausted and the other completely drained from adrenaline. Castiel hurries to Dean, the green-eyed male reaching to pick up the key after the portal closes.

“Are you okay?” Castiel asks quietly.

“Stop doting, I'm fine,” Dean sighs. “Check on Sammy.”

“I'm okay, I just have a headache,” Sam remarks. “And I'm fucking tired. I say we head home and crash for the night.”

“What about Michael?” the angel asks softly with a tone of worry. “He might hold a grudge against you... he tired to kill Sam! How can we trust him?”

“Look, as far as I'm concerned he can go back and reign in Heaven. As long as it means you stay with me I don't fucking care where he goes,” Dean sighs tiredly. “I just want to go home... please?”

Castiel nods and helps Dean to his feet, keeping one of the hunter's arms slung over his shoulders. He's afraid the other will fall again should he leave him go. Gabriel is with Sam, holding him upright in the same manner, and they're all faced with Michael. The angel, still within the youngest Winchester, watches them in complete shock. He doesn't know what to say or do, however he knows something isn't right. Then it strikes him; the light from within Dean.

“It can't be,” he murmurs. “I've watched over you since you were in your mother's womb, I wouldn't have missed something so monumental!”

“His bloodline was sealed until only a short while ago,” Gabriel offers seriously. “As was Sam's. You were locked inside that cage with Lucifer, because you threatened the lives of these two humans in particular. Heaven was ravaged by war for the same reason. You should've chosen your targets more wisely, brother.”

“They weren't supposed to have offspring! This is an outrage! The very deities tasked with the balance of the universe and they've destroyed it!” the archangel shouts in a rage.

“It was their decision as the balance!”

“I will fix the mistake they made,” the angel hisses.

He darts forward, easily taking down both younger angels, and grabs Gabriel's blade. His closest target is Sam, the blade coming down on the younger Winchester. Sam raises his arms to shield his face, huddling his body to the side for protection, and closes his eyes tight. He can hear Dean shout out, forcing his body to move between the weapon and his brother. He feels the weight of his older brother leaning on him, arms around his torso to keep himself upright. Neither of them feels anything, but they hear the clink of blades meeting.

Both hunters slowly peek their eyes open. A beautiful woman, dressed in a short kimono with long black locks loose behind her, blocks the blade easily with her katana. Michael's eyes are wide and shocked, the angel moving away from the livid woman quickly... only to bump into her snowy haired twin.

“You have been a naughty angel, Michael,” Ming Yue mutters out.

“How _dare_ you call a choice made by us a mistake!” Xia shouts. “Our children are no mistake, they're a _miracle_! They aren't a threat to the balance, they're merely children! Infants in our bloodline that need proper guidance! Even _you_ were a threat to the balance when first created... and even recently if I recall.”

“Using our offspring, our babies, to start the apocalypse? Using their vessels as your own little playground, walking them like puppets to their deaths?” Ming Yue bites out. “It's _unforgivable_! We have a choice to make, my sister. For once we must deal with the balance personally, or let this indescretion go. I choose to act.”

“... It is a difficult choice, my sister,” Xia sighs. “Normally I would allow another to make this choice, however God has been gone for a long while and won't want to be bothered with the actions of his children. I vote to act. Which leaves us with another choice... Shall we destroy this threat to our children for what he's done, or allow him the chance to live on in shame?”

“I choose to _destroy_ him,” the darker sister grins sadistically.

“... I choose... the same,” the lighter sister adds. “We are in agreeance, we are allowed to act in the name of the balance we protect. Michael, archangel of the Lord, you have acted deplorably. You have not kept in mind the love your Father wished you show humans, you have used them to your liking, and you have attempted to bring about their doom. It is unforgivable. The balance has decided your fate, you will die by our hands.”

They pull back their blades and get ready to thrust them into the angel. In a panic, Sam and Dean leap into the blades' paths. It's so close, yet their mothers have perfect control of their weapons and bring the blows to an end at the drop of a dime. They can hear the sharp breath each takes, even Michael and their mates. With a forced smile, the twin women pull their blades back and regard their children.

“Sunspot,” Xia says as sweetly as possible. “Honey... what do you think you're doing?”

“Don't kill him!” Dean states.

“Oh for the love of... Moonbeam, get the hell out of my way so I can smite down this egotistical piece of shit!” Ming Yue says with a sigh. “We can talk later, I promise. Right now, mommy is trying to deal out a bit of harsh justice.”

“This isn't justice,” Sam frowns. “Sure the guy's an asshole, the majority of the angels are. They think just because they're nearly invicible and they were created by God first, that they're more important and better than humans. It's not like humans aren't the same way to others like them.”

“No kidding,” Dean remarks. “I can think of a few right off the bat. The fact is, Heaven was mostly in order when Michael was up there. The angels follow him, they listen to him. I don't trust the guy, but if he's not up there Cas and Gabriel have to be. I want to be with my mate! Please... give him a chance.”

The women study their children carefully, the pleading within those eyes almost too much for them to take. Michael is between the hunters, completely shocked at this turn of events. With reluctant sighs, the twins break down and sheathe their katanas. They take a step back, crossing their arms over their chests.

“Very well,” Xia comments.

“But we'll be watching him _very_ carefully,” Ming Yue adds. “One feather out of line...”

“... And we kill him,” they state together.

They vanish in light and shadow, leaving the cemetery dark and cold. The hunters breathe simultaneous sighs of relief. They make their way back to their mates, resting against them as everyone gathers their thoughts. It's Michael that speaks up first, his voice soft and confused.

“What did you do that for?” he wonders.

“It was the right thing to do,” Sam states.

“But... the things I did...”

“Now you can make up for them,” Dean offers. “Heaven's a mess, dude. Go back home and set things right. Just remember, humans aren't all bad. Sure a lot are misguided and violent, but many others aren't. They just want to live their lives without worries.”

Michael nods and gives them a grateful smile before flying away. The hunters miss it, already drifting off against their lovers. Castiel and Gabriel carefully move them from the cemetery to the bunker, putting them to bed without waking them. When the hunters are snuggled within their blankets, the angels join them for a time.

Dean wakes when the sun rises, as he usually does, and notes that Castiel is still lying with him. The angel is watching the ceiling fan as though it's the most interesting thing in the world. Across the hall, he can hear Sam stirring... as Gabriel is now eagerly attempting to engage him in intercourse, the younger Winchester shouting in irritation. It sounds as though he's hitting him with something.

“Ah, the wonderful sounds of a perfect morning,” Dean smiles.

“Dean... why did you opt to risk Lucifer getting loose?” Castiel wonders. “It's been bothering me for a while now.”

“She should be with her mate,” the hunter remarks quietly. “I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you, Cas. It's probably the worst sort of torture I can think of... she didn't deserve that. I don't care what the fuck she did, she didn't deserve to suffer anymore. We couldn't let them run amok out here, threatening the world, but... we could at least put her with her mate.”

“... She looked so happy when the portal closed.”

“... Yeah she did.”

Dean sighs and turns around, eager to get rid of the melancholy now eating at him. He kisses Castiel, nibbling on the angel's bottom lip languidly. Arms wrap around him, pulling him close... and then he hears the beat of wings as they stretch. Those black folds of velvet feathers encase Dean, tickling his back. The hunter lets out a content purr at the touch. A deep groan tumbles from him as he arches his back, the hunter automatically straddling his mate's lap.

Before he put Dean to bed, Castiel stripped him down to nothing. He did the same to himself before joining the other. Nothing lies between them and the feeling of flesh on flesh is instantaneous. Dean rocks his hips against Castiel's, dropping his forehead to touch his lover's. The action doesn't stay so slow and sensual, though, quickly gaining in speed as he feels the coil in his gut tighten. Hands on his hips stops him, the two panting at the exertion as beads of sweat glisten on their skin.

“Why..?”

“Patience, Dean,” Castiel smiles. “We have all day, there's nothing threatening us. I intend to take my time with you. If you have a problem with that... we can always cuff you to the bed.”

“... You kink,” Dean chuckles. “How about we cuff _you_ to the bed?”

“You can try, but I doubt I'll stay that way long,” the angel smirks before locking lips with his love.

He doesn't turn them, not this time. This time he wants to cradle his mate within his wings as they have sex, assuring him that he's safe and loved. Dean hums to himself as he runs his hands along Castiel's torso. Their kisses are feverish and the heat within those wings is growing rapidly, the hunter rocking against his mate. Castiel holds him still with a hand on his hip, running his lips down Dean's neck. He leaves licks and nips along the sweaty skin. His other hand lays flat on the hunter's abs, drifting down slowly to ghost over his erect member.

They lavish attention on one another, taking their time and growing more aroused by the second. Finally, Dean can't take it anymore. He's a begging mess, his body so hot if feels on fire, and he tugs at Castiel's wing impatiently. With a light chuckle, the angel grabs the lube and coats his fingers to stretch Dean. His mate's impatience is getting bad, so he hurries with the task and slicks up his member. His hand isn't completely off his erection when Dean is reaching back to guide it, the green-eyed man easing himself onto the thick shaft. Once he's fully seated, it's a race to the finish line. His legs ache as he moves on Castiel's sex. Every drop hits his prostate and the force is drawing up moans from his lips; the sound is thick with lust and need.

He can't think straight, the amount of pleasure bringing tears to his eyes. That pressure in his gut is almost painful and he knows this is going to be one of the most powerful releases in his life. He vaguely wonders if this is how it'll always be with his mate. At long last, that pressure snaps and he sees white bursts of light as his cum coats their stomachs. His mouth drops open and his eyes roll back into his head, the angel hissing as his hunter clamps down on his rigid flesh. It's too tight and painful, Castiel releasing into Dean almost immediately. His wings tighten around the hunter at their release, his fingers leaving bruising fingerprints in Dean's hips.

Breathing hard, Dean sets his head on Castiel's shoulder. They try to calm their breathing and their racing hearts. Warm cum drips from Dean's entrance, the hunter groaning in disgust at the feeling. The minute he gathers his thoughts, Castiel cleans away the mess with a thought.

“Thanks,” Dean murmurs tiredly.

“Not a problem, my light.”

“You know... I'm glad you're my mate,” the hunter yawns out. “You're good for me... you know that?”

“And you're good for me,” Castiel smiles. “Ever since I pulled you from Hell, you've made me a better person. I will never forget that.”

“... Okay, we're venturing into 'chick' territory,” Dean frowns. “Let's not get too mushy, I've already lost enough of my manliness taking it from you.”

He loves the sound of Castiel's laugh as it fills the room. Black feathers disappear, the two sliding down the sheets to lie comfortably on the bed. As Dean lays his head on Castiel's chest, he can't help but think about everything they've gone through together. They've hit quite a few bumps... even more mountains... and yet here they are. Right where they're meant to be. He wishes he knew what he meant when he told Castiel that he needed him. Had he realized back then, he could've had this happiness sooner. As it is, he can only smile and hold on to this feeling he's managed to scrounge up... the happiness he never thought he deserved.


End file.
